Slayer
by Beast of Burton
Summary: A Fallout crossover. History may remember her as the Lone Wanderer, but those who crossed her path knew her by another name, and knew she was not alone. Rated for violence and sexual situations. *slight delay for author illness, next update anticipated between 11/16 and 11/17*
1. Prologue: Giles

**Author's Note:**

This piece is technically a crossover of BtVS and the game Fallout 3, but I feel that because the emphasis of the story is the characters it fits better here. The characters of this story belong to Joss Whedon et al, the plot elements belong to Bethesda Game Studio, and the words belong to me. I'm not getting any monetary benefit for the production of this story, and I hold the deepest of respects for both Mr. Whedon and Bethesda.

This is my first foray into fanfiction and I am always looking to improve my writing skills, so if you have a spare moment when you finish reading I would love to hear any criticism you have to offer. This will be a long story, and I will endeavor to update weekly.

The first section in italics is a quote from the introduction of Fallout 3.

Happy Reading.

* * *

_Since the dawn of humankind, when our ancestors first discovered the killing power of rock and bone, blood has been spilled in the name of everything from God to justice to simple, psychotic rage._

_In the year 2077, after millennia of armed conflicts, the destructive nature of man could sustain itself no longer. The world was plunged into an abyss of nuclear fire and radiation, but it was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world. Instead, the apocalypse was simply the prologue to another bloody chapter of human history. Man had succeeded in destroying the world – but war?_

_War never changes._

* * *

The cold stillness of the wasteland night was broken abruptly by the frantic crunch of boots on gravel. A lone man, shrouded in ruined clothes that barely held back the chill, limped quickly up a steep hill, panting harshly. He leaned heavily on an ancient, twisted guard rail, clutching a bundle of cloth to his chest.

At the top of the hill, he stumbled forward into a rock face. Turning to lean his back against the cliff, he looked up into the ink-black night and let out a single, exhausted sob. Sidling along the face, he reached out a hand to trace the way in front of him. He stopped when his hand slipped over the rotting frame of a wooden door.

With a little force the old door gave way, rusted hinges screaming under the long forgotten pressure. The tunnel beyond it was even darker than the night outside. The man lurched forward, sending up small puffs of dust and ash with every step. He winced at the sharp, dry cracking sounds that punctuated his journey forward, knowing the grim reality of debris that lined his path.

The tunnel ended at a huge steel door. Groping forward, the man sighed in relief when his hand landed on an ancient console, caked in dust and grime. Feeling blindly, he pressed a few buttons before one yielded with the hiss of static. He swallowed hard, then held the button down again.

"Snyder! Snyder, I know you've been watching since I entered the passageway. It's Rupert Giles." He released the button and waited. Seconds became minutes, the static hiss as dead as the air he breathed. He depressed the button again.

"Snyder," he started, panic bleeding into his voice, "Please. You know I wouldn't come here under anything less than dire circumstances. Please, just pick up the intercom." He swallowed hard. "I'm begging you."

The static hiss filled the tunnel once again for a long second, then clicked softly into silence. A new voice, harsh and distorted, at last returned the man's plea.

"Where's Joyce?"

Giles ground his teeth together, biting down against another wave of grief.

"She died. Something went wrong with the birth and I…I couldn't save her."

The static hissed again.

"Snyder, we ran out of water yesterday." He prayed the emphasis on 'we' carried over the decrepit loudspeaker.

The silence after the click was deafening.

"We need a doctor, not some mad scientist. You will raise the child as if you were both born in the Vault. Any funny business and I will make sure you both regret it."

Giles' knees buckled under the sheer force of relief, collapsing to the ground as the klaxon sounded. The bundle clutched to his chest began to stir, a weak wail rising from it. He pealed back the layers of stained cloth, letting the stale air hit the tiny body they were wrapped around. He smoothed his hand over the fine tuft of white-blonde hair on the child's head, shushing her softly and the alarm cut off and the mechanical whirring began. He felt tears run down his face as the steel door screeched backwards and rolled to the side and the guards started forward.

* * *

Picking absentmindedly at the grey, sludge-like lunch rations, Giles made another thoughtful mark on the medical records he was examining. A sound from the corner of the room drew his attention, and he took a moment of quiet happiness to contemplate his daughter.

Buffy had grown well in the last year. Her small body had taken quickly to proper nutrition; her hair had begun to thicken and grow in a light golden color and her clear blue eyes had darkened to a sharp, inquisitive hazel. She was currently engaged in an urgent conversation with a stuffed bear, speaking in that fast toddler's babble that would be words and questions almost before he could blink his eyes. Feeling his attention on her, she turned to Giles and gave him a brilliant smile. The joy was so intense that, for a moment, he forgot all the horrors of their lives before.

The door to their quarters hissed open without a knock. Overseer Snyder entered, boots clanking purposefully on the steel floor. He was towing someone small behind him, none to gently. Buffy's smile faded into a frown. His speech began without entreaty.

"Since you failed to save the Rosenbergs from their injuries last month and no one else in the Vault will take responsibility for their distastefully peculiar child, as the primary provider of medical care the task falls to you."

Giles set his pen down with a hard_ clack_ on the metal desk.

"I only 'failed to save them from their injuries' because you wouldn't allow them to leave their post until their shifts had ended, even though they had been bitten repeatedly by radroaches," he started, his voice rising in volume as he spoke.

Snyder rolled his eyes. "Spare me the melodramatics. The work is done and now there are fewer mouths to feed." He dragged the child in front of him roughly by the hand, a little girl barely months older than Buffy. She looked up at Giles with wide, scared eyes. "You'll receive another half measure of rations until the children reach the requisite age. Good day."

Giles heard Snyder's boots clang against the floor, heard the door hiss close behind him, but his attention was centered on the Rosenberg girl. She could not have been more than two, her red hair still hanging in curls around her face. Her eyes were a deep, expressive green, clearly communicating her fear and confusion.

"Are you my daddy now?" she asked in a small, disbelieving voice. He was taken aback that someone so young had already achieved coherence. He knelt down in front of her, reaching out a tentative hand to brush the hair back. "No, little one," he said softly, wincing as lonely grief flooded her eyes, "But I will do my very best to honor him by caring for you. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Willow," she said quietly, uneasiness stealing over her features. An indignant gurgle rang out from behind the pair, and Giles looked over to see Buffy attempting to heave herself over the playpen barrier to investigate the situation for herself. She was far closer to achieving her goal than Giles was comfortable with, so he rose and retrieved her before she could once again muscle her way to freedom. Walking back over to where Willow remained rooted to the floor, he set his daughter down gently before her.

"Willow, this is Buffy," he started, watching the girls interact. Buffy sat looking up at Willow with curious eyes; Willow stood looking down with hesitancy. Without warning, Buffy grabbed Willow's hand and pulled herself to her feet, babbling excitedly as she tugged the other girl by the hand towards the toy chest in the playpen. Willow let out a surprised noise, a breathless, delighted little laugh. Giles felt tears of pride prick at his eyes as the daughter offered her favorite bear to his ward.

* * *

Giles staggered backwards a few steps, thinking once again that Buffy really was becoming much stronger than she looked. She had leapt into his arms upon discovering the surprise party he and Willow had planned for Buffy's tenth birthday, and was in the process of squeezing the air from his lungs in joy.

"You're the best, Dad," she said into his ear, kissing him soundly on the cheek before releasing him. She practically bounced over to Willow, who was grinning excitedly off to the side of the room. Coughing halfheartedly, he made his way over to lean against the mess hall bar and watch his daughter mill about happily amongst the handful of children that lived in the Vault.

Buffy had grown in to a bright-eyed, exuberant girl, eager to test the limits of everything she encountered. While this had done little to endear her to the Overseer, Giles could not help but be proud of her inquisitive nature and growing drive. He did find himself wishing she could apply it more seriously to her studies, though. He smiled softly as she led Willow over to the counter where the birthday cake was waiting.

Willow, on the other hand, was growing into a very different young woman. Alone, she was often timid, but gifted with the most massive intellectual potential Giles had ever encountered. Her mind worked so rapidly that her thoughts often spilled out into her speech as an endless stream of connections. With Buffy, however, she became an eager helper in the mischief of the day, applying her advanced knowledge to further the cause.

Raised voices drew him from his contemplation. Percy, the biggest among the children, was attempting to bully Buffy out of one of her presents. Giles' first instinct was to step in and prevent an altercation, but he knew that it was time that Buffy start learning how to manage her own interactions. He could see Buffy's temper rising, her fists clenching when Percy shoved a well meaning Willow to the side. Buffy had drawn her fist back to strike the boy when another boy spoke up.

His eyes tracked to the interrupting voice. He knew from the medical records that the boy was Alexander Harris, but he had heard the girls call him Xander. He was small for his age, scrawny with limp black hair falling into his eyes. The boy's father was an alcoholic, and was obviously not caring for him properly. Xander had caught Willow as she stumbled, holding on to her as he tried to diffuse the situation between Buffy and Percy. Giles felt a puzzling dread rise up from his stomach as he watched Willow look up at the boy like he had hung the stars.

Whatever had been said seemed to cool Buffy's ire enough to prevent a physical altercation, though not enough to prevent her from spitting pointedly on Percy's shoes. The gargantuan boy was enraged, but seemed to have shifted the focus of his anger from Buffy to Xander. Xander gently pushed Willow towards Buffy, then planted his feet and stared up defiantly at Percy. Giles stiffened, knowing now was the time to interrupt, but he was beaten to the scene by Officer Gomez. The kindly security guard placed a hand on each of the boy's shoulders, imparting a few calming words of disappointment. Percy huffed and turned on his heel to storm out of the room while Xander went almost limp with relief.

Giles leaned back on his elbows again, watching his girls interact with Xander. They stood close together now, all admiring Buffy's new PipBoy computer. While she was distracted, Giles saw Xander looked upon Buffy with the same expression of awe and admiration that Willow had given him. Giles sighed wearily, knowing that the next few years would be very difficult to watch, let alone live. The intercom trilled near his ear; Wesley had readied the surprise gift for Buffy down in the reactor room. Giles straightened out his back and walked over to the children, wondering if Buffy would enjoy bringing Willow and Xander along with them.

* * *

Standing in the shadows by the entrance of the make-shift range he and Wesley had built all those years ago, Giles took a moment to watch the three young people who all looked upon him as a father. He knew he should be admonishing them for skiving off, but he couldn't bring himself to break up the familiar, quietly happy scene he had seen so many times before. Willow was perched on top of a container with a book open in her lap, Xander leaning casually bellow her munching while thoughtfully on a bag of potato crisps while Buffy stood straight and confidently as she fired her BB gun at the worn out targets down the range.

Adolescence was never an easy journey, but the three of them had managed to weather the hormonal hurricane with minimal damage done to themselves or other, a fact that Giles found himself quite proud of. Buffy had turned away Xander's growing affections early on; crushing the boy's spirit until her finally took notice of the adoration in Willow's eyes. The two of them had danced around each other for years until they both realized the only attraction they felt was to the dance itself. All three of them had managed to remain thick as thieves and, under Giles' relentless tutoring, finished their studies with a moderate amount of success.

Willow had excelled in school, often to the point of growing bored with the available curriculum. Giles had tried his best to keep her engaged by informally apprenticing her in the med bay and teaching her everything he could about medicine. Xander, on the other hand, had slogged through the years with little to show for his difficulty. He may not have been gifted academically, but after two years with the maintenance department the boy could repair almost anything. Buffy did not turn out to be a scholar, either, Giles thought with a tinge of disappointment, but she had grown strong and confident and almost dangerously charismatic. She was now waiting for the guard to come to a decision on her readiness to begin training, and her anxiety was very apparent.

"Slow down, Buff-zilla," Xander swallowed, "if we have to go back to your place to get more ammo I'll be press ganged into an honest day's work again." Willow snorted, not looking up from her book as she turned the page. Buffy did not answer other than to let out a series of shots at a blistering speed, setting each of the targets to spinning wildly. She put the rifle down on the reloading bench with more force than was strictly necessary before leaning against a crate and sliding to the floor with an exasperated sigh. "This sucks," she groaned into her hands, "I hate waiting. What could they possibly still have to talk about after three days?"

"Maybe Cordelia drew your assignment as her first administrative test," Willow said, looking up from her book with a frown. A dark look crossed over Buffy's face. "That would be just like her, making me squirm for her own amusement. Bitch," Buffy growled.

"Don't kill Cordy. You know that would just annoy her father, the _Overseer_" Xander said in a mocking voice. "Plus I wouldn't have anyone to make out with if she were dead." Willow gasped dramatically and lightly whacked the top of Xander's head with her book. "Bad Xander! No smooches with arch-nemeses!"

Giles chuckled quietly in his alcove, delighting for a moment in the tribulations of youth. He felt darkness creep into his thoughts, realizing with a mix of pride and despair that they were almost adults now. Soon they would no longer need him, even Buffy. He watched Xander pick up the toy gun, loosing a few wild shots before he zeroed in on a target. Buffy easily leaped up next to Willow, lightly mocking the boy as she leaned against the girl she knew as well as a sister. Giles turned and exited the room silently, leaving the children to enjoy their fun while they still had the chance.

He stared hard at the floor as he walked, losing himself in planning. They would be ready soon, and he still had a promise he needed to keep.


	2. Escape

**Chapter 1: Escape**

"Buffy! Willow! Will you two wake up already! This is, like, really serious!"

Buffy sat bolt upright in her bunk, eyes darting around the room in search of the frantic whisper. As she heard Willow emit a rather undignified snort and dreamy warning about the frogs invading the Vault, she caught sight of Cordelia Snyder, the Overseer's daughter. The girl's back was flush with the door, knees trembling, face completely devoid of color. Her eyes were wide and dazed, glassed over with terror.

** "**Cordy, what are you doing in here?" Buffy started, trailing off as the metallic trilling of the emergency siren echoed through the door. She stood abruptly, purposefully shaking the bunk frame to jostle Willow from sleep. Willow shot into consciousness, looking around blearily with the inquiry, "Wuzgoinon?"

Buffy walked over to Cordelia, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders. "Cordelia, what the hell is happening?" She asked, giving her a firm shake to draw her back to the present. Cordelia blinked and looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time, watching Willow scramble down to the floor before finding Buffy again. Eyebrows knitting with indignation, she shoved Buffy away and began pacing the length of the room.

"Your stupid dad is what's happening! He just got up and left the Vault like he was going out for a freaking picnic! And now there are roaches everywhere and everyone is freaking out and _my_ dad has gone insane and has security actually killing people!" She paused for breath and looked over to Buffy, tears starting to run down her face. "He killed Wesley, Buffy."

The words hung in the air, somehow both a confession and condemnation. Buffy heard Willow's gasp as if through water. Cordelia's speech could have been in Sumerian for all the sense it made. There was no way to leave the Vault; the door was sealed when the bombs fell centuries ago. And, even if this infallible truth was somehow shattered, why would her father have left? He would never leave her behind. He couldn't.

Cordelia huffed dramatically, "Like you guys didn't know all about this anyways. You two and that doofus Xander are _always_ together and do whatever Giles tells you but," she hesitated when she saw the stony horror settling in Buffy's eyes. "He didn't tell you, did he?" she asked slowly, looking from Buffy to a trembling Willow. "Wow, I…I'm sorry."

The three of them stood in the tense, awkward silence of the metal room, listening to the chaos build outside the door. Cordelia reached a shaking hand behind her back, pulling a handgun from her waistband. Buffy inhaled sharply as Cordelia pressed the weapon clumsily into her hands. "I think my dad is going to kill you for this. You guys are totally lame, but I don't want you to die. You have to get out of here, too. If you can make it to my dad's office, there's a program on the computer that opens a tunnel down to the door." Her voice faltered as she glanced from Willow to Buffy one final time. "I hope you can find Giles."

"Thanks, Cordy," Buffy managed, her own voice sounding dead to her ears. "Go, be safe." Cordelia's whimper was lost in the hydraulic hiss of the door behind her. Buffy looked down at the handgun, a boxy ten millimeter semi-auto, turning it over in her hands before clicking off the safety and cocking the slide back. She registered movement behind her, having almost forgotten about Willow in the face of the terrible revelation. As she turned, a flying backpack filled her field of vision.

After what she considered a very deft catch, given the circumstances, Buffy saw Willow shoving boxes of BBs, bottles of water and stimpacks into her own backpack. She continued to stare blankly as Willow strode over to the bank of lockers, removing their childhood BB gun and loading it as she walked back. "What?" Willow asked, wincing at the rifle's rusty squeal as she pumped the lever. "Did you really think I was going to let you leave by yourself? Please."

Underneath the thick layers of confusion and anger and grief, Buffy felt her chest lighten at the knowledge that at least this girl, her sister in all but name, would not leave her in this darkest of times. She strapped on the backpack Willow had tossed her, hefting the pistol in her right hand. "Fine," she said gruffly, heading towards the door. "Let's blow this popsicle stand." She felt Willow fall into step behind her as they headed out into the hall. "We need to find Xander first, the Overseer hates him just as much as us," Willow reminded, the tremor in her voice belying the confidence she tried to project.

* * *

Xander leaned heavily against the hallway wall, pulling huge gulps of air into his burning lungs. Up until a few moments ago, he would have sworn before God and the Overseer that radroaches were quick to die and easy to kill. Turns out Buffy's gun was doing more of the work than he was all these years. He felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach again at the thought of Buffy in danger. Willow, too.

He pushed off the wall with his shoulder, making a sharp, wobbly turn towards the girls' quarters. Instead of an empty hallway, he found his field of vision filled with a wall of muscle, which he hit hard. The air was knocked out of his lungs as he fell back on his hands, his body filling with an old, tired dread as he stared up at Percy. Of course, he thought, of _course_ Percy would show up right now, truly completing the surreal horror show that this day was becoming.

"Harris!" Percy barked in surprise, staring back down at Xander. He was sweating, Xander noticed, and his eyes were wide and wild with an animalistic panic. His leather jacket was ripped along the arms and stained with thick gobs of greenish-brown slime, his pants looked as though they had been shredded up to the knee by teeth. Most surprisingly of all, when he overcame the shock of the collision, he leaned down and offered a hand to help Xander up.

Xander reached up tentatively, not entirely believing that he would just be helped back to his feet so easily by the mountainous man-child that had terrorized him his entire life. He was not disappointed. Percy grasped his hand hard, wrenching him up sharply as pain sliced through his shoulder, and continued to pull until Xander's mouth slammed into his.

The kiss was hard and fast, the hollow shock of it only beginning to pool in Xander's stomach after it had ended. "I don't know, man" Percy stammered, "I'm pretty sure we're going to die and I always wanted to do that. If we survive and you tell anyone, I'll kill you, I swear," before bolting of in the direction Xander had come from. Xander stared after him, numb with disbelief, for many moments. He was jostled back to reality by the sound of his name.

"Xander!" Willow cried again, throwing her arms around him as soon as he turned around. He felt the relief bubble up as he wrapped his arms around his dearest friend, looking over the top of her head to find Buffy. She was completely devoid of expression, staring back at him with cold eyes. He felt his own eyes widen when he noticed the pistol in her right hand. "Jesus," he exclaimed, pulling away from Willow, "Am I glad you girls are alright. Do you know what the hell is happening?"

"It's Giles," Willow explained tearfully, "he left the Vault. He just left, Xander! He didn't even talk to us first. And now there are radroaches everywhere and the Overseer is telling the guards to kill people and we have to leave, like now." He felt his whole body tense as she spoke, "What do you mean he left, Will? No one can leave the Vault, the door is sealed! And even if it wasn't, why are you leaving, too?"

"Because someone owes me a fucking explanation," Buffy muttered darkly as she stalked down the hall past where he and Willow stood. Xander squeezed Willow's shoulder when she choked down a sob, gently turning her until they were walking after Buffy. "Well you're nuts if you think I'm going to let you go out there by yourselves, so count me in on this little adventure. Where are we going?"

"Are you sure, Xander?" Willow asked quietly, "What about your dad? And your job; there will be so much stuff that broken after today."

"You two are way more important than both of those things combined," he assured her, feeling the blood drain out of his face as Buffy paused in front of the door to the apartment he shared with his father. "It's no use, Buff," he called out, relieved that his voice didn't shake, "the whole place is crawling with roaches. I'll have to grab a bag from somewhere else." Buffy seemed to accept the answer, continuing forward down the hall.

"Are you ok?" Willow looked up at him with concern. He swallowed hard, "Fine as can be, Will. Let's hurry, the Buffster is booking." He schooled his expression very carefully as they passed his door, never breaking a step as the faint screaming from inside faded behind them as they walked.

* * *

"Oh my god, I think that's Cordelia!" Willow exclaimed, immediately processing the voice behind the terrified screaming that assaulted their ears as they turned the corner at the top of the stairs. They ran towards the sound, skidding to a halt at the frosted window of a holding room. Willow could see the outlines of three figures, two standing, one seated. Buffy slammed her fist into the door controls, and Willow raised the toy rifle to the firing position as they burst through the entryway. The scene that greeted them was the most horrible thing she had ever seen.

Cordelia was bound to a chair with duct tape, face streaked with dried tears and running makeup. Officer Mack loomed over her, a pair of live, half stripped wires in his hands. Willow looked down to Cordelia's arms; the sleeves of her shirt were ripped off unevenly and the skin of her forearms was splotched and red with electrical burns. The most horrifying thing before them, though, was the second man standing in the corner with his face set in a look of dumb shock. It was Overseer Snyder.

"Help me, please," Cordelia rasped. Mack turned away from his prisoner, dropping the wires to draw his gun. Willow saw his hand close around the butt of the pistol in slow motion, but before he could draw it from his holster there was a thunderous bang. He staggered backwards, looking confusedly at the now oozing hole in his shoulder. Willow looked over at Buffy, who was still holding her pistol out with a shaking hand. Her eyes were wide and startled, but filled with something that looked closer to awe than fear.

Willow squeezed her eyes shut when she saw Buffy's finger start to tighten around the trigger. There was another bang. And another. And another. Willow opened her eyes again when she heard a thud, and stared in horror at the blood flecked across the room's back wall. "Buffy," she breathed, before pounding footsteps shattered the stillness of death. A heavily breathing Officer Hanson hesitated in the doorway, gun in hand. "What the hell," he was interrupted by another bang. There was a thick, wet slap against the window as Hanson crumbled to the ground. Willow felt sick when she saw the lurid spread of blood and brain matter.

"What the hell have you done, you trouble-making little bitch!" the Snyder snapped as he rose from a crouch in the corner. Buffy's arm swung towards the voice, and a sharp smile spread over her face. "I defended myself and my sister against two _very_ bad men. I find myself wondering if I've forgotten to take care of a third." The Overseer paled, backing further against the wall. "You and your meddling father, I knew you were a mistake! Go ahead, kill me right in front of my only child, you won't be getting a thing out of me."

"I think you forfeited any parental right when you let this happen to her," Xander spat as he cut Cordelia's bonds and helped her unsteadily to her feet. "I hold nothing above the safety of the Vault," Snyder huffed, "even the well being of my own flesh and blood."

"Conveniently, all the flesh attached to you appears to be fine," Buffy growled, advancing on the cowering man. She looked over her shoulder at Cordelia, who was leaning heavily against Xander. "It's your call, Cordy," she leveled the barrel with the Overseer's head. "No," Cordelia sobbed, "I can't watch anyone else die, I just can't." Willow let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"Suit yourself," Buffy sighed flipping her gun to grab it by the barrel before bringing the stock down on the Overseer's head with a wet crack.

* * *

"Do your thing, Willow," Buffy ordered, stepping aside to let Willow dash to the computer in the Overseer's office. Xander, too, hurried into the room, heading straight to the bay of lockers on the far side. Buffy lingered in the doorway, watching Xander rip open each locker, shoving whatever he could find into the bag Cordelia had given him while Willow typed away feverishly at the computer's encryption. Somewhere within her core she felt a faint affection trickle through her at their unquestioning loyalty.

She rubbed a hand up and down the skin of her arm, willing the painful tingling to stop. Cordelia's violent rescue had woken something in her that she had not known before. She knew that her first shot had been reflexive, a muscular response to a threat against her family. The second was not. In the space between the shots her entire body had filled with the primal knowledge of committing violence against another human, the overwhelming _rightness_ of stripping an unworthy being of its life. The third and forth shots had finished the job, and she did not hesitate with the interrupting Hanson.

"Buffy," Xander's voice pulled her out of the flashback. He tossed a small cardboard box towards her that clinked mutedly as it flew. She saw the markings of ten millimeter ammunition on it as it landed in her hands, and she immediately cracked it open. After dumping out a handful of bullets, she stuffed the box in her own bag and popped out the magazine clip of her handgun. She started walking towards Willow as she reloaded.

"How we doing, Wills?" she asked impatiently, wondering absentmindedly why Willow tensed at the sound of the magazine clicking back into the gun. Buffy whipped around when an pained screech erupted behind them, watching in awe as the Overseer's enormous desk grated backwards on the ground. "I'm in," Willow said softly, eyes still flicking frantically over something on the screen. "Buffy, you should come and look at this."

Buffy scanned over the green text, singling out a handful of clues. No longer dangerously irradiated. Undrinkable. Civilization. Megaton. "Download it, we've gotta go," she said as she headed towards the newly revealed stairway. Xander walked over to Willow, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she moved the data to her PipBoy. Buffy knew she should be more gentle, more understanding of the effects of the horrors they had seen on the other two, but she felt nothing but the low, steady burn of impatience. She had brought a wall down in the face of her father's traitorous departure, shoving down the deep emotions it had caused as a way to survive the escape and save what was left of her family.

When Willow's download had completed Buffy lead the way down the stairs, gun at the ready. They reached a door the end of a darkened hallway, where she felt blindly for a switch. When she found it, she brought her fist down upon it and the door hissed open into the pitch-black entry bay. Xander ramped up the brightness on his view screen, casting the cavernous room in an eerie green light. Buffy's eyes lighted upon a control panel.

She steeled herself for an ancient and confusing interface, but was dully surprised to find a clearly labeled 'open' and 'confirm' levers. She pulled both simultaneously. The room itself seemed to take a deep breath before a klaxon sounded and a dull, orange light began to pulse. A huge drill swung down from the ceiling, whirring noisily when it connected with the vault door. Coolant streamed unevenly into the room through long high grates splotched with rust. Buffy felt an arm curl around her shoulder and looked up sharply at a pale Xander, who had Willow clutched to his chest with his other arm.

The alarm cut out suddenly, and for the space of a single breath Buffy heard nothing but the hiss of coolant and the pounding of her heart. Then the air filled with the scream of metal upon metal as the vault's door was dragged backwards. After a second's pause, it rolled cleanly to the side, revealing a dirt tunnel illuminated by a thin strip of the brightest light Buffy had ever seen. The three of them stood there in silence, looking down upon what they had done.

The pounding of boots on steel jerked Buffy into action. "Come on, guys, we need to move. Now." She pulled out of Xander's embrace and descended the short staircase, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Willow and Xander had followed her when she heard a pneumatic door hiss open. "Run," she barked, taking off down the tunnel. A bullet shrieked by her head as her feet hit the dirt, but she kept running when she heard two pairs of feet crunch close behind her. Within moments they reached the wooden door at the apex passageway. Without stopping, Buffy angled her shoulder and rammed the door open.

They were consumed by light.


	3. Following in His Footsteps

**Chapter 2: Following in His Footsteps**

Willow was all but certain that she had been blinded. The pain splintering from her eyes to the back of her head was so excruciating that it set her ears to ringing. When her eyelids were open the world was white, closed and it glowed an ominous orange with throbbing green-black afterimages that were making her nauseous. Her feet skidded on the loose gravel and she fell backwards, the grinding pain of grit embedding in her skin muted by the overwhelming agony behind her eyes.

She felt more than heard a groan rip out of her throat as she pressed her hands into her useless eyes. After a handful of terrifying minutes, the pain at last began to ebb. The high pitched buzzing in her ears began to fade, allowing her to process the sounds of pain coming from either side of her and the low whistling of the wind. She swallowed a mouthful of air that tasted like dust and pushed down her fear of reigniting the pain, lowering her hands and prying her eyelids open once more.

The whiteness began to fade into brown and grey, the outlines of rocks and ruins painted across the sweeping scope of her convalescing field of view. As the vision slid into focus, she felt a heavy, numbing shock settle in her arms and legs. They had emerged onto an outcropping of rock that looked out upon what had once been suburban Washington, D.C. She could see everything; the splintered, rotting carcasses of wooden houses, the colossal skeletons of towering highways, all of it painted in a thousand shades of dust and ash. Far in the distance a dark tower Willow knew must be the remains of the Washington Monument stood out against the scorched-blue sky, broadcasting the perpetuity of the ruined city itself.

A retching sound drew her attention, pain slicing through her head once again as she twisted around to look. Xander was on the ground, too, clutching his head as he curled into himself. Buffy was standing closer to the edge of the cliff, leaning heavily on an ancient road sign with her face hidden in the fabric of her sleeve. There was another retch, and Willow realized a fraction of a second before the bile hit the back of her tongue that she was the source of the sound. She only just managed to look down before she vomited, watching with a disjointed kind of horror as the last meal she would ever take in the safety of home curdle wetly on the dry ground.

A shaking hand smoothed across her back, wide and warm and masculine. Xander looked ill when Willow managed to crack open her eyes, his face devoid of even the slightest flush of color. She glanced up at the sound of crunching gravel, watching Buffy push off the sign and make her way unsteadily over. Wincing as her boot squished on the moistened ground, Buffy knelt in front of Willow, slipping her thin arms under Willow's own and hauling them both to their feet. She tightened her arms around Willow with a strength that far surpassed her small frame.

"It's ok, Willow. We're ok. We're ok." Buffy murmured over and over again, even as frightened tears started to color her voice. Willow focused on the dampening fabric at her shoulder, letting the nausea wane as Buffy came apart in her arms. She was still more than a little frightened by Buffy's ferocity during their escape from the Vault but she recognized it as a front, an icy reaction to protect the gaping wound left in the wake of Giles' departure. Willow felt the dull throb of abandonment in her own chest; after seventeen years in his care, Giles was as much her father as Buffy's.

Xander dragged himself to his feet, wrapping his long arms around both of them as an unearthly screech echoed from the tunnel behind them. Metal ground upon metal as the door to the Vault slid closed, sealing their fate with a terrible permanence. Now they were exiles, doomed to wander the ruined earth in search of a man who very likely did not wish to be found. Willow stroked a hand up and down Buffy's back as her shudders began to slow.

"What do we do now?" Xander asked in a small voice, staring out over the wasteland stretched before them. Buffy picked her head up off Willow's shoulder, following Xander's line of sight with red rimmed eyes. Steely determination settled over her face as she looked to a claw-like silhouette in the southeast.

"We start walking."

* * *

"What the hell do you mean, a hundred caps?" Buffy growled, staring down the smirking man behind the counter of the bar. Xander felt the fear begin to rise in him again as the air seemed to thicken with tension. The man, Willy, the owner of Megaton's only bar, had admitted to seeing Giles only to withhold the information until he received what Xander could only assume was a large quantity of hats.

"Caps, girlie. Bottle caps, cash, moola, dinero. Give me a hundred caps and I'll tell ya where your daddy went." Willy leaned well into Buffy's personal space. "And don't think a little slip of a thing like you scares me. I've had much bigger bastards beaten up for much less lip than you've given me. Now buy a drink or get yourselves out of my fine establishment," he looked Buffy up and down with a leer, "We don't cater to beggars, even pretty little things like you." Willy turned on his heel and disappeared into a back room. Xander saw the murder in Buffy's eyes and placed a firm, warning hand on her shoulder.

"C'mon, Buff. Let's just go, ok?" On Buffy's other side, a pale Willow nodded vigorously and grabbed Buffy's hand. As soon as the front door closed behind them, Buffy shook Xander off and stormed over to the railing at the edge of the platform the bar was built on with a disgusted huff. Xander walked up beside her, looking down over the first settlement they had ever seen.

The whole city was built in a massive crater, ramps of rusting corrugated metal climbing the sides to ramshackle shacks that looked to be constructed from the bones of ancient aircrafts. At the crater's center lay the ominous source of the town's name; a massive, unexploded nuclear warhead jutting out of a shallow pool of dirty water. Xander was rather alarmed by the idea of being so near an ordinance of that magnitude but the town's sheriff, Robin Wood, had assured the three of them that the bomb had lain sleeping for hundreds of years. Wood had been gruff, but kind to them; he had not seen or heard of Giles, but he gave them directions to the bar and a trading outpost called Craterside Supply.

"We should go to the trading place," Willow said in a small voice, "maybe we can get enough money for the stuff we took from the Vault." Xander thought it sounded like a promising idea and looked expectantly over at Buffy. The girl was still bristling from the encounter in the bar, gripping the railing hard enough to push her knuckles up white against the skin of her hands. For several moments she made no indication that she had heard Willow; Xander was about to repeat the idea when she suddenly pushed herself up straight and stalked towards the ramp that lead to Craterside Supply. Xander took off after her, tugging a startled Willow behind him.

Within minutes they reached a large structure that had shop's name spray painted on the side. The smell of acrid chemicals and burnt rubber hit Xander like a physical blow as they filed through the front door. A small woman looked up from a ledger as the door creaked closed behind them. She came out from behind the counter with a wide grin spread across her narrow face, brown eyes filled with a genuine delight Xander found very charming. "Well, howdy!" she exclaimed, "Y'all must be the kids from the Vault Sheriff Wood came by to tell me about. Come over here; let me take a look at ya." She beckoned them further into the store.

"My, my, they sure know how to grow 'em in those vaults!" the woman declared as she circled the three of them with an appraising eye. Xander noticed a slight limp as she returned to her place behind the counter. "Welcome to Craterside Supply! I'm Winifred Burkle, but everyone here just calls me Fred. What can I do y'all for?" After a moment of nervous silence, Xander stepped forward and tugged the backpack of his shoulders.

"We were hoping we could sell these things," he emptied the contents on the counter, adding an uncomfortable, "Ma'am," to fill the quiet space of time where Fred examined what little he had managed to take from the Vault. She made a few appraising noises, turning over a cup here, fingering a clipboard there, before she finally spoke up. "Well, honey," she said with a small frown, "I'm afraid I can only give you about twenty caps for this, and that ain't gonna get you too far in this town." Xander felt his shoulders slump under the weight of defeat, Buffy's angry glare burning a hole in his back.

"Don't despair, now," Fred said quickly, "let's see if we can figure something out. Can I see that BB gun you got there…?"

"Willow," Willow answered helpfully, pulling the toy rifle off her back and passing it to Fred. The shopkeeper began to pace back and forth while inspecting the gun, punctuating the pregnant silence with the occasional thoughtful murmur. She looked up suddenly, alarm clearly written on her face.

"Is this the only weapon y'all have between you?" she looked between the three of them with growing concern. Buffy stepped forward and placed the handgun she carried on the counter, staring at Fred with a mixture of distrust and defiance. Fred looked only marginally relieved. "It ain't real safe for you to have just one real gun for the three of you, especially when those nifty vault suits will be like catnip to raiders." Xander didn't understand the reference, but he looked down at himself critically, wondering what was so special about his patched, oil-stained jumpsuit.

Fred gasped suddenly as an idea dawned on her. "I know just what y'all can do! You can help me with my book and I can give you gear in return!" She put down the BB gun and hobbled excitedly around the counter. "I'm writing a book to help folks make it out in the Wasteland. I already started some of the research myself, figured out that scavving the Super-Duper Mart ain't the best idea and mapped out the minefield up north, but that last adventure sorta took me out of commission." She tugged up the leg of her coveralls to reveal a weathered piece of wood where her foot should have been. Xander swallowed hard, seeing even Buffy's eyes widen at the terrible sight.

"I just need one more experiment to finish the first chapter. If y'all can do it for me, I'll give you weapons and more protective clothing in return and buy up your vault suits and the BB gun for a hundred caps. How's that sound?" Xander was elated; this was more than they had even dreamed of getting from anyone in Megaton. Willow spoke up, hope shining in her voice, "What do you need us to do, Fred?" Fred smiled widely at each of them.

"I just need one of y'all to develop acute radiation poisoning."

* * *

Impotence burned hot in the pit of Buffy's stomach, the feeling only sharpened by gnawing hunger and bone deep exhaustion. She ran her hand over Xander's hair, his head resting in her lap as he moaned quietly. Equipped with little more than the clothes on their backs until they finished Fred's dangerous errand, they could not even afford to spend the night in the town's common house. Xander had refused to even listen to the idea that she or Willow be the ones to poison themselves as they made their way down to the center of town. He had pulled a chipped mug out of his backpack and dipped it into the pool around the bomb, throwing the vile water back with a horrible grimace. By the fifth cup he had become too nauseous to move, and the three of them settled down on the gravel-pocked ground as night fell upon Megaton.

Buffy looked over to Willow, who was sitting nearby with her legs crossed. She was alternating between staring intently at the warhead and scratching something into the dirt. Buffy was ask what she was doing when footsteps starting crunching towards them. Gently easing Xander's head to the ground, Buffy stood up silently and wrapped her hands around the stock of her pistol. A voice rasped, "Hey," behind her, and the shock of laying eyes on the owner of that voice instinctively tightened her finger closer to the trigger.

It looked like it may once have been a man; standing on two feet with broad shoulders and narrow hips, wearing normal, if ill-cared for, clothes. Everything else about it screamed monster; the visible flesh seemed to be melting of its bones, both eyes were blank and milky-colored, gaping holes in the center of its face looked as if they may once have been a nose. The creature stared at her, but did not come any closer. Without warning it broke into a grotesque caricature of bashfulness.

"Aw geeze," it ground out, shuffling awkwardly from one foot to another, "You kids have never seen a ghoul, have you? I'm sorry; I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Gob. I, uh, work up at Willy's." It looked up at Buffy with what she guessed was a regretful expression. "I was working in the back when you all came through this morning. I heard Willy treatin' you like shit and I wanted to see if I could help you out, show you not everyone in Megaton is a bastard."

Buffy was utterly dumbfounded. She glanced behind the creature – Gob, she corrected herself – to locate Willow. She, too, was on her feet with a defensive stance, but her eyes were wide with strange mixture of sympathy and curiosity. "Does…does it hurt?" Willow asked uncertainly, the faintest terror flitting over her features was Gob turned to face her. He gave her a gentle, misshapen smile. "No, ma'am," he slipped his desiccated hands into his pockets. "It's just the way we end up looking. You're real sweet to ask." He glanced down at Willow's drawings in the sand.

"What're you doin' there?" he asked curiously. Willow glanced over at Buffy and started scratching nervously at her own arm. "I was going nuts just sitting watching Xander get sick, Xander is our friend over there," she nodded over at the boy curled up on the ground, "And the bomb is right there and it's really terrifying that it's still live. I read a lot about explosives in the Vault, Giles didn't like it but all the stuff in school was so boring and I thought it was really interesting to learn about so I read all the books I could find and I was just looking at the interface on the bomb and it all came back so I was trying to figure out if I could disable it." She swallowed nervously. "I'm pretty sure I can."

Gob's eyes widened slightly in their sunken sockets. "No kidding? There hasn't ever been anyone come through here who knew jack shit about explosives. You could go and make the whole city safe for good!" Willow looked over at Buffy, seeking permission. Buffy nodded slightly; knowing if there was anyone who could outthink a machine, it was Willow. "Go ahead, Wills," she said quietly, "we may want to come back here eventually, and I'd rather not spend the whole time worrying that we're going to blow up."

Willow bent to tuck the legs of her jumpsuit into her boots before wading into the water. Buffy moved a little closer to Gob, eyes on Willow the whole time. "I'm really interested to hear what you wanted to say earlier, especially now that we're helping you out." Gob did not look at her, his eyes also glued to Willow as she cracked open a rusty plate on the bomb's face. "Willy has a computer," he rasped, "It's in the back room. He keeps detailed records about who comes to town, their names, where they came from, where they're going." The thrill of a potential lead shot down Buffy's arms. "I don't know the password, but if you can get your girl in there I'd bet good money she could crack in without it."

There was a quiet, anticlimactic click and the low humming Buffy had barely noticed cut off into silence. A shudder ran up Willow's legs, making her lean heavily on the now deactivated warhead. "I did it," she called out weakly before slogging back to dry land, sitting down heavily next to Xander. Buffy could feel the excitement rolling off of Gob. "Hot fucking _damn_," he cheered, hopping up and down, "You really did it, girl! This is unbelievable, I gotta go tell Sheriff Wood about it; he's gonna give you the keys to the damn city! Wait right here." Gob took of up the hill, skidding to a stop when Willow's panicked voice rang out in the night.

"Buffy, Xander's bleeding! His nose is bleeding and he's burning up." Buffy felt a suffocating dread billow through her lungs before allowing the numbness of duty to crystallize. She turned to Willow, speaking in a cold, clear voice.

"We're going to Fred's. This experiment is over."

* * *

Willow was beginning to think she may never have the chance be calm again. Even with Gob's assistance it took the better part of an hour to haul the delirious Xander up to Craterside Supply. Fred was still half asleep when she cracked open the door after another fifteen minutes of manic pounding. As soon as Xander was settled across the counter, Gob took off running to wake the sheriff.

She still felt faint from her tangle with the bomb, the iridescent heat of poorly shielded radiation echoing sickeningly around her stomach. Coupled with the rising panic over Xander's fast deteriorating condition, Willow was certain that her blood pressure was exceptionally elevated. Detached professionalism throbbed through her mind at the thought, a single beat of calm before the acidic dread washed back over her. Focus on the medicine, she ordered herself, grasping hard at each cool pulse of objectivity.

Xander was unconscious. He was presenting with a high fever and bleeding in the weaker membranes of his nose and mouth. A faint rash was developing across the backs of his hands. She reached over and grasped his hand with her own, pressing her thumb lightly into the rash. It did not blanch with the pressure.

Fred returned from a back room with an intravenous bag filled with milky liquid. As she searched for an appropriate needle, Willow dropped Xander's hand and walked behind the counter. She could not locate any isopropanol among the bottles on the shelves, instead grabbing a bottle of high proof vodka and a matchbook. Walking over to Fred, she snatched the hypodermic from the dirty cloth Fred was wiping it down with and pressed dock end into Buffy's fingers.

Without speaking she unscrewed the alcohol and drenched the needle, turning slightly to spill some of the liquid on Xander's bared arm. Placing the bottle on the counter, she lit a match and held the flame directly under the long needle, watching the blue line of fire spring to life and die within the space of a second. Pinching the plastic dock out of a wide eyed Buffy's grip, she walked back over to Fred and attached the sterilized needle to the bag.

"A doctor, too, eh?" Fred asked, cautiously edging around Willow. "Y'all are just full of surprises." Fred apprehensively handed the bag to Willow and bent over Xander to tie a tourniquet around his upper arm. A list of blood vessels rolled through Willow's mind, stopping abruptly at the medial cubital. She stepped forward and smoothed a thumb over Xander's inner elbow, feeling the vein roll under her touch. Unconsciously handing the bag back to Fred, she steadied his arm with one hand and jabbed the needle forward with the other, piercing the skin and sliding smoothly into the vein. She released a breath she didn't realize she was holding when the liquid started dripping down the tube, disappearing cleanly into Xander's arm.

An arm curled around her shoulder. "Good job, Will," Buffy said hoarsely as they watched Fred mount the bag of medicine on a rusting pole. "Good job, indeed, Ms. Rosenberg," a deep, male voice said behind them. They turned to see Sheriff Wood, visibly impressed and leaning casually against the door. He took off his hat, running a dark hand over his face to wipe some of the exhaustion from his eyes. "Gob came by and told me what you did to the bomb. That was mighty kind of you, considering the people you've had the most interaction with here have tried to extort or poison you." He cast a pointed look over at Fred, who suddenly became very interested in something on the other side of the room.

Willow felt color rising in her face, the veneer of professionalism starting to crack under the kind words. "It…I…thank you?" she stammered, tensing as Wood walked towards them. "I'd rather thank you," he smiled, pulling a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his leather duster. "This is a deed of property for the empty house by the gate. I know you all will be traveling on soon, but you've done this town a great service and it wouldn't be right to let you go unrewarded." He pressed the paper in Willow's hand. "It's got a couple beds and a couch, a Mr. Handy model robot assistant and a mostly functional kitchen. You three are always welcome here, and I'll hope to see you again once you find your dad."

"Fred, why don't you get out the gurney from the junk room and we'll get the girls and Mr. Harris set up in the house." Wood slipped his wide hat back onto his head as Fred scooted off to a back room. "What sort of deal did you make with her?"

"She was going to give us weapons, clothes and a hundred caps," Buffy replied cautiously. Wood made a disapproving noise and called out to Fred as she wheeled the table into the main area. "Now, Fred, before you go back to bed you're going to lay out the best armor and weapons you can afford to let go and you're going to give Ms. Giles…"

"Summers," Buffy interrupted. "My name is Summers. It was my mom's name," she trailed off, looking to Willow as if she was choking on a long forgotten grief. "Ms. Summers, then," Wood smiled gently at her before looking back to Fred, "You're going to give her three hundred caps for her family's trouble. The city will comp you one hundred of them." Fred looked outraged, but shrank under Wood's hard look and stalked over to the cash register at Xander's feet. It popped open with a _ding_ and Fred withdrew three thick, rectangular packages wrapped in brown paper.

"Once we get your friend situated, you can treat us all to a midnight snack at the Golden Lantern with your new found wealth," Wood declared as he eased his arms under Xander's shoulders. "There are some things we should talk about while you're still here.

* * *

Xander hunched his shoulders, shifting uncomfortably under the unfamiliar weight of his new clothes. He frowned down at the steaming bowl on the counter in front of him and found himself almost wishing for the delirious nausea of the last three days to return so he could avoid eating the vile stew. Who would want to eat something quite so much like smelly feet, he wondered to himself as he stuck his spoon into the thick, brown concoction, grimacing when it stood straight up with no assistance. A nudge against his shoulder drew his attention to the seat next to him.

Willow frowned at him disapprovingly as she gamely swallowed a mouthful of the stew, allowing only the faintest flicker of disgust to cross her face as it slid down her throat. Without looking away, she groped around for the glass bottle of soda in front of her and took several gulps of it. Xander felt himself staring at her yet again; by the time he had woken up the day before, she had looked drastically different than their first night in Megaton. She had been fiddling with the robo-butler Wadsworth, programming him to mend clothes and cut hair and the like, and she had her own long, red hair sheared off to her shoulders. It was startlingly eye catching, especially combined with the smooth, pale arms revealed by her new outfit.

She smacked his shoulder when she caught him, using her other hand to turn his head back towards his lunch. He sighed dramatically, lifting another revolting spoonful to his mouth while listening to the hum of conversation around them. Willy's Bar was evidently the place to be in Megaton, even if its proprietor was an slimy bastard. It remained unclear to him why Buffy wanted them to assemble here after her meeting with Wood. Doubling puzzling was her instruction to bring their backpacks with them and be ready to travel. The sheriff had dissuaded them from paying Willy's bribe, insisting that they would need the money for food and ammunition on the road, so Xander was at a loss for why they would even bother with Willy for anything. Maybe it was all just an elaborate prank to get him to eat squirrel.

He shifted his shoulders again as he swallowed, feeling a sharper tug on one side and a hard, squarish piece of metal dig into his lower back. It was the first time he had brought his new assault rifle with him anywhere in town and even slung over his back with the safety on he felt powerful. He could almost feel the eyes of the other patrons on him, the respect, the _fear_. It made him a little dizzy to think about it. He glanced down by his feet, feeling Willow's hunting rifle tucked up under the counter more than seeing it. He wondered why she would be so guarded about being armed.

The front door swung open behind them and he turned to see Buffy silhouetted in the midday light. She strode into the bar, her steps ringing out much louder than her light frame suggested they should. There was a surprisingly stylish leather coat buttoned over the light, formfitting armor she wore. A brass star was pinned over one breast pocket. Her golden hair was tied back behind her head and a cold confidence was shining in her eyes.

"Willy," she called out as she approached the bar, fingering something at her hip as she leaned on the bar next to Xander. Willy stuck his head out from the back room, a greasy smile spreading across his face when he saw Buffy. "Well hey there, pretty little thing," he said, leaning much too close to when he reached the counter, "You got hot. What are you, now, playing cops and robbers with Sheriff Wood? I got a much better game you can play with me." Buffy shook her head, an innocent smile turning up the edges of her mouth.

"Thanks, Willy, but I like playing with the sheriff. He gives me get out of jail free passes, so I can do this." There was a blur of movement and an agonized scream. When Xander looked down at the counter he saw Willy's hand pinned to the counter by a wicked looking combat knife. Buffy's hand was wrapped around the handle.

"Now here's how it's gonna go, Willy," Buffy said sweetly, twisting the knife between the bones of his hand. "You're going to give Willow over there the password to your computer, so we can pass along all that tasty information you've been collecting to people who it can actually help. And then," she leaned in close to Willy's tear stained face, "Then you're going to tell me where the _fuck_ my dad went."

"Oh god, ok, ok, the password is Nuka Quantum all one word," he sobbed, watching his own blood ooze out rhythmically around the blade. "Your dad wanted to find someone, Calendar something, so I told him to ask the guy on the radio, Three Dog, at the station in the city. I'll tell you how to get there just please, god, take it out, please."

"Now was that so hard?" Buffy sighed, wrenching the knife out of the counter and wiping the blood on her pants before sheathing it. Willy clutched his injured hand to his chest and doubled over with pain. "Willow, go download the files for Wood then meet us at the gate." Willow scurried off behind the bar, doubling back awkwardly to grab her rifle from under the counter. Buffy looked over at Xander with ice in her eyes and animal satisfaction in her smile.

"Get the directions from the man, Xander. It's time to hit the road."


	4. Galaxy News Radio

**Chapter 3: Galaxy News Radio**

The lamplit darkness of the ancient train tunnels was almost pleasant after a week under the blazing sun, Buffy thought as she idly picked at the crumbling concrete by her feet. Willow and Xander sat nearby; having collapsed into an uneasy sleep soon after Buffy finally heeded their pleas to stop for a few minutes. She didn't understand how they could be so tired. Around every corner of the darkness was another threat to be neutralized, another adrenaline rush to ride. Every sound that filtered through the stale air was a monster sniffing out a kill, and the constant thrilling tension of the fight invigorated Buffy like nothing she had ever experienced.

Willow and Xander did not seem to share in her sentiments. They had been underground for about a day, having stopped for only a few hours at a time since they had left Megaton. Every violent encounter, and there had been many, seemed to leave them both drained and frightened. Xander had vomited the first time his assault rifle sliced through a rabid dog. Willow first kill had left her trembling so intensely that she couldn't hold her rifle for hours afterward. They were exhausted by the pace they were keeping, losing energy as fast as Buffy was absorbing it.

The silence and stillness was beginning to bore her. She fidgeted, shifting against pull of the coat across her shoulders with an exasperated sigh. She wanted to move; they were so close to the way out of the subway, so near the radio station where her father was headed. Underneath the growing pull of violence in her veins, even underneath the layers of hurt and betrayal she dared not dig through there was a single thought pushing her forward. Find him. Find him. Find him. Somehow, some way if she could find her father, this nightmare would end. She would wake up safe in the Vault with Willow snoring above her and Xander sneaking into their room with coffee and comic books.

A faint sound pricked the edge of her hearing, shaking her from her darkening contemplation. Straining, she heard footsteps approaching from a distance. Heavy, plodding footsteps. She fumbled her handgun out of the still-stiff holster at her hip, leaning into the wall while she pushed herself to her feet. She tapped Xander with the side of her foot, holding a finger over her lips to indicate silence as he jerked into consciousness. With careful, quiet steps, Buffy inched forward until she could peer around the corner of the tunnel. About fifty yards down atop a small incline, the source of the sound became clear.

It was a creature unlike any she had ever seen, and she was all but certain they had witnessed every available horror in this terrible new world. The monster was easily eight feet tall, a heavily muscled facsimile of a man with sickly yellow-green skin. Its loins were bound with stained cloth and a sledgehammer bigger than any weapon she had ever seen before was strapped to its back. Sniffing at the air, it rolled its bestial head in Buffy's direction, revealing bloodshot eyes and bared, yellowing teeth. Pulling in a sharp breath, she flattened herself against the wall and cast a warning look over at Xander and Willow. If she could classify the cold tingling under her skin as apprehension, then the looks on their faces would easily fall under the designation of terror.

"Hello?" the creature growled, craning its muscular neck to look down the passageway. "I thought I heard something." Buffy flattened herself further against the wall, taking slow, shallow breaths. Her blood was screaming for a fight but her mind could still understand the concept of relative size, and she was all but certain a monster of such magnitude would be able to toss her around like a ragdoll. She flexed her fingers against the cold, damp concrete, trying to breathe through the urge to attack even as her vision began to tunnel.

Time passed. It was impossible to tell if it went by in moments or hours, but during that time the creature released a bored grunt and trundled off into the darkness. When she could no longer hear the pounding of its feet, Buffy slid down the wall and pulled in a deep lungful of air. She heard Willow whimper from across the hallway and looked up to Xander's shoulders heaving as he took huge, gasping breaths. They needed to get above ground and away from whatever friends the monster might return with. Now.

"Let's move out, guys," she breathed, pushing to her feet and walking over to Willow and Xander to pull them to theirs.

* * *

The plaza was in chaos. Xander crouched down behind a sandbag barrier, pushing down the urge to drop his gun and cover his ears against the wall of noise. The sound of gunfire racketed off the stone walls of the Galaxy News Radio building behind him, bouncing endlessly around the enclosed courtyard. Around him, huge men in hulking grey armor bellowed out commands in metallic voices. Ahead of them all was a tide of monsters.

Before the battle began, Buffy had said they looked just like the creature they barely managed to avoid in the train tunnels. The leader of the armored men, a serious looking woman with nut-brown skin he was pretty sure was named Kendra from the roars of her comrades, had said they were Super Mutants. All he knew was the ogres seemed to have an unending supply of ammunition and explosives and he was on his last clip. There was a crack next to his ear, sharp enough to make it ring. Willow ducked down next to him, her rifle smoking in her white-knuckled grip.

"I got one!" she cried out over the pandemonium as her arms started shaking violently. The rifle dropped into her lap, the barrel hissing as it singed the fabric of her pants. "Will you look at that. I think my arms stopped working." Xander reached out to grasp her arm reassuringly, cursing his own unsteady hands when he wrapped them around his assault rifle and popped up above the barrier. He held down the trigger and prayed. The recoil of the weapon got away from him again, sending a wobbly line of bullets screaming across the ground as he fell backwards. The air was knocked out of him when he hit the soot-stained concrete. In the terrifying moments of breathlessness, the sounds of battle began to wane. By the time the hot, sulfur-scented air hit the bottom of his lungs again they had all but stopped, leaving an eerie silence broken only by the animal howls of the injured and dying.

Willow helped tug him to his feet. They stood close together and looked out over the carnage. He could not count the number of colossal mutant corpses, but he could clearly see the three unmoving figures in gunmetal armor. Buffy stood near the center of the plaza, spattered with blood and gore and breathing heavily. When she turned to face them the manic tension of battle started to visibly drain from her body, relief flickering over her face at Willow's weak wave. The faint hiss of hydraulic joints signaled the arrival of the Kendra person from the front line, but she stopped suddenly as a radio started squawking frantically.

_"Mayday mayday, Behemoth approaching at three o'clock. Repeat, Behemoth incoming at three o'clock!"_

There was a rhythmic rumbling, the crack of snapping concrete and the scream of twisting rebar. A sickly green foot the size of Xander's entire body thudded into their field of view, followed by a hulking mutant that towered easily twenty feet above the ground. The armored men sprang into action, opening fire in one ear-shattering movement. The beast roared even as most of the bullets bounced right off its hide. Xander pulled Willow back down behind the barricade, knowing they were both out of ammo. He tried his best to cover her body with his own and, huddled together, they waited for the end.

With his eyes shut tight against the dawning horror, Xander only heard the events that followed. Someone bellowed out something he could not understand over the sounds of the fight, and there was a flurry of movement around him as a handful of armored men rocketed towards the center of the fray. There was a cry, not of pain but of exertion, and in an unbelievable instant, the gunfire cut into silence. The creature drew a heaving breath, almost masking the click and slide of a low velocity projectile being launched. There was a _whack_ against its skin, and the world exploded into light.

The shockwave rippled through the field knocked him to the ground. He twisted his body around to keep Willow covered as an indescribable heat shimmered over his back. Unearthly stillness settled over the plaza, and Xander took the chance of looking up from the ground. He pushed himself off of Willow and peered over the barricade at the smoldering pieces left of the monster. Over its corpse hung a thick cloud of white smoke, billowing up into the air and curling back in on itself. It looked almost like a mushroom.

As the surviving men in armor began to stir among the wreckage, Xander realized frantically that he could not see Buffy. He pulled himself to his feet, looking around wildly as he raced down the short flight of stairs to the courtyard. He froze when he found her, lying crumpled at the base of a supporting pillar on the far side of the building, a rail gun roughly the size of her body lying at her feet. Only when he heard Willow scream for her as she ran past him could he find the strength to move his numbed feet towards Buffy. She looked so small, so fragile. So still.

He knelt beside her body, gently moving her so she was leaned against her chest. Her eyes were open, staring blankly up towards the sky. "Buffy," he said quietly, feeling tears start to roll down his face. Without warning, her head lolled to the side, gazing straight at him. Something magically, unmistakably alive sparked behind her hazel eyes and a weak smile quirked up the edges of her mouth.

"That…was…_awesome_," she said hoarsely, and Xander wept with relief.

* * *

"Oh my god, that was so cool!" Willow tried diligently to ignore the small man bouncing around them, but it was difficult to tune him out for long enough to focus on treating Buffy's wounds. He was bounding around with such vigor that she couldn't even pin him down long enough to toss him a glare. His straw-blonde hair kept flopping into his eyes, and even the way he swiped it out of his vision was becoming annoying.

"You took down a behemoth, a _behemoth_ by yourself! When the Brotherhood of Steel couldn't even give it a paper cut! You're like some kind of amazing super mutant slayer, wait," he paused, scratching his chin thoughtfully, "That's good. Slayer. Hmm…"

"Will you please shut up long enough for me to make sure she can keep slaying?" Willow snapped, feeling a touch contrite when the man seemed to wilt under the words. "Who are you, anyways?" Buffy asked, hissing dramatically as Willow jabbed the needle of a stimpack through her skin.

"Oh, I'm Andrew," the man brightened at the attention, "But everyone just calls me by my radio handle. Three Dog." Buffy looked up sharply, her arm jerking under Willow's grip. "You're Three Dog? A man in Megaton named Willy said my dad was coming to see you. His name is Rupert Giles; he's older, graying brown hair, glasses."

"A commanding voice that lends itself well to condescension," Xander added, wincing when Willow punched his shoulder. Andrew nodded enthusiastically. "I know Giles! He came by a few days ago. What a great guy, really fighting the Good Fight out there. I remember him saying he had daughters about my age." Buffy batted Willow's hands away as she tried to adhere a bandage to the skin above Buffy's collarbone. She stalked over the where Andrew was and began backing him into a darkened corner of the lobby.

"What did he say to you, what did he want, what did you tell him and where is he going," she growled, shoving Andrew against the wall. "In that order. Now." Andrew gulped, looking over Buffy's shoulder to where Willow and Xander were waiting with baited breath. "He said he was looking for someone name Jenny Calendar and I told him I know a lady scientist named Dr. Calendar and where she was when I last heard of her and I guess he went there to see her," he squeaked when Buffy grabbed the collar of his shirt and mashed him further into the wall. "Where. Is. He. Going." Buffy slammed Andrew against the concrete with every word.

"I want to tell you but I can't!" Andrew cried out, whimpering when Buffy released him with an incredulous grunt. "He said he didn't trust the Brotherhood," he whispered frantically. "I don't know why; they've done nothing but kept me from being a super mutant appetizer, but he said they wanted control over an old project of his and he made me promise not to repeat where he was going to anyone." Willow's heart fell as fast as her hope had risen. She glanced warily at the hulking armored Brothers of Steel, wondering what they had done to Giles to make wary enough to mask his path.

"I have an idea, though. Maybe if you help me, I can help you," Andrew said in a low voice, eyes trailing down to Buffy's hands. "Those are PipBoy 3000s on your wrists, right?" Willow nodded even as Buffy moved to shove Andrew against the wall again. "Wait, wait, wait, please don't hurt me again," he held up his hands in a gesture of defeat. Willow walked up behind Buffy and put a warning hand on her shoulder, nodding over at Andrew when Buffy fixed her with a frustrated glare.

"Look, I need someone like you to help keep the Good Fight going. I'm small and weak and get a little sick around blood so the only thing I can do to help anyone in this world is run this radio station," Andrew looked around the crumbling lobby with an almost fatherly pride. "On the radio I can be anyone. I can be someone who tells the truth about what's happening out in the Capital Wasteland, someone who shares the information that can save a life or even just the music that can make it worth living again. But that isn't happening anymore because an attack on the radio tower I set up on top of the Washington Monument knocked out the dish that bounces my signal across the whole Wasteland."

He looked up seriously at Buffy. "The Brotherhood can't spare the people to go fix it, and I'd be reduced to ground meat if I set foot outside this building. You're my only hope. If you promise to fix my radio tower, I'll program your PipBoy to release the coordinates of where your dad went here," he clicked a series of buttons and brought up a green map on Buffy's view screen, "When it can pick up my signal again. Your dad is a great man. Please say you're willing to help the Good Fight, too?"

Buffy looked over at Willow, anger and apprehension warring in her eyes. Willow felt it, too; the terrible sinking in the pit of her stomach that told her this was only the start of a long, convoluted quest. They were clearly being used as tools for some greater agenda they couldn't grasp yet, but they had little choice in the matter if they wanted to find Giles. Looking at Andrew's pleading expression, seeing the guileless hope shining in his eyes, she began to understand that even though they had to do this for him, it wasn't the wrong thing to do. Even if fixing the tower wouldn't help them, it would help others. They could do something to make the vast, unforgiving outside world safer for the rest of the people who clung to life in it.

Willow could see the same revelation dawning on Buffy's face, clashing with the primal anger she had been channeling into their search for Giles. As they were growing up, he had always, _always_ taught them to do the right thing, and Willow could feel the surety of that truth in her bones. This was the right thing to do. Buffy crossed her arms and looked hard at Andrew.

"Alright. We'll help you."

* * *

The last mutant fell with a howl, its legs twitching spastically against the dusty floor. Buffy leaned against the stone railing, breathing hard against the visceral rush of the kill. The pounding in her ears began to quiet, the hard, black edges of her vision softened into the dark interior of the cavernous building. After two solid days of fighting their way through the subway tunnels, an entire afternoon navigating across the trench-pitted expanse of the National Mall and the majority of another day picking through the mutant-infested Museum of Technology, Buffy was running on adrenaline alone. The fear of running out of enemies felt far less disturbing than she intellectually realized it was.

"Xander, come here. There's another one of those number sequences," Willow called out from the ground floor, working a museum information terminal even as she glanced around wildly for another threat. Xander dashed down from the floor above Buffy, slowing as he passed her with scared, inquisitive eyes. She nodded slightly, patting him on the shoulder before he continued down the stairs. In their search for Andrew's alleged satellite dish Willow had mined every working computer they came across for more precise information on its location. There had been little success; almost every computer had identical information targeted towards tourists from the museum's golden days. Two computers had generated a list of random numbers after that data, clues left by a scavenger for his absent partner.

"Umm…113? Yes, definitely feeling 113." Buffy walked up behind Xander as Willow tapped several keys on the terminal. Everyone jumped when the machine released a high pitched beep before flashing 'ACCEPTED' across the screen in bold letters. Buffy heard the faint click of a door unlocking in a hallway behind them. Her knife found its way to her hand without a conscious impulse and she began edging towards the noise, the action seemingly unnoticed by Willow and Xander.

"I can't believe you guessed all three of those numbers. I'm _way_ too tired to do the math but those odd are not generous, mister, believe you me," Willow frowned at the unresponsive terminal. "What can I say, the universe owes me more than a little luck at this point in my life. I wonder what I won," Xander stroked his chin thoughtfully, "A lifetime supply of Nuka Cola? The collected adventures of Grognak the Barbarian? The Even Bigger Book of Science, now with more irrelevant and incomprehensible factoids?"

Buffy moved slowly and soundlessly across the open floor, flattening her body against the opposite wall before peering around the corner. The hallway was unlit, but there was the faint outline of an open door standing out against the blackness. A harsh whisper in the shape of her name drew her eyes forward again. Willow and Xander stood tensed, staring at her with a growing fear. "I heard something," she said quietly, easing off the wall and moving to the mouth of the hallway. "Can a computer unlock a door?"

"Yes, if the lock is magnetic and a circuit between the two is intact," Willow reached over her shoulder with shaking hands to unsling her rifle. Buffy nodded absently, inching forward into the darkness. When she came to the door she found a narrow staircase leading up and around to a level hidden from view. The hairs on the back of her neck rose with the intrusion of Willow and Xander into her field of awareness, but the low hum of impending violence remained silent as they made their way up the steps. After two flights, the staircase opened into a security room with massive computers taking up one wall and floor to ceiling windows overlooking the museum making up the other. In the back corner, wedged up under a console desk was a squat, black safe. The square door hung open.

"Jesus _Christ_," Xander hissed as he knelt before the safe, scooping up a handful of its contents and showing it to Buffy and Willow. "There's got to be hundreds of caps in here." Good, Buffy forced herself to think through the rising tension tightening in her muscles. Caps meant food, food meant life. Life meant more death.

"Look," Willow called, squinting through the yellowed glass, "I think that's the Virgo Lander Andrew was talking about." Buffy walked over to the window, catching sight of the spindly metal construct posed dramatically on a rather plain platform of craggy grey rock. Willow sighed dreamily, "That went into space, came back from the _moon_. Can you even imagine?" Buffy could not. Her entire world had narrowed around the pair of super mutants who had plodded into the lower room.

"Give me the rifle, Will," she said, her voice cold and flat. Willow's eyes widened as she slowly complied. Buffy dropped to one knee, bracing the barrel against the surface of the desk. She took a hard look through the dirty window, waiting for that voice of instinct to whisper _yes_ as she surveyed her targets. The world began to slow as the sight landed on the back of one of the beasts' heads. The action flowed through her whole body; squeeze, crack, kick, pivot, aim, squeeze, crack. The targets fell; thick, dark blood pooling around their massive bodies. She sat back on her heels with a lazy smile as satisfaction curled around her.

Pushing easily back to her feet, she was almost surprised to find Willow and Xander staring at her with a heady mix of awe and horror. On the surface she was disappointed with herself for causing them to be afraid, but deep down, firmly tucked underneath all thoughts spared on others, Buffy was growing angry. She was doing this for them, after all. They didn't understand that to keep them safe, to keep them _whole_ she gave herself up to the darkness. She held hard to the cold self-righteousness, letting it cool the growing pleasure throbbing sickly in her veins.

"How do you even do that, Buffy?" Xander whispered. She gave him a wide, insincere smile.

"Magic. Now let's do get that dish thingame. I want to get to the Washington Monument before it gets dark outside."

* * *

As Xander made the final adjustments to the radio tower, Willow let herself slide down against the stone wall and watch the sun set over the wasteland. Her feet sang with relief as she sat, her arms and legs growing heavy with exhaustion now that they were finally allowed to rest. It felt as though they had been on the move for years, as if every morning she had ever woken up clean and safe and well rested was a distant dream. Even when she took stock of the painful dryness of her mouth and the needling emptiness of her stomach, she found herself too tired to even rifle through her backpack for the last of her food and water.

Buffy paced impatiently behind Xander, looking as charged as Willow felt drained. She knew Buffy had always been stronger than her, more physically resilient, but persistence of her vigor was beginning to trouble Willow. With each terrifying instance of violence they had fallen into Buffy seemed to slip into a sort of fugue state, reacting with deadly speed and instinct. Willow knew enough about brain chemistry to see the signs of adrenaline saturation and knew enough about Buffy to see her cling to that high as the only way out of her self-imposed emotional blackout. Willow longed to help, but had no idea where to begin.

"And that should do it," Xander declared, wiping the sweat from his forehead before tugging down a large lever. The machinery ground to life, metallic noise building steadily to a high-pitched whine as a red light began blinking softly under the newly installed dish. The PipBoy on Willow's wrist lit up abruptly, flicking to the map function without provocation. In a quadrant near the bottom right a new marker pulsed green on the bank of the river. "Rivet City," she read quietly, looking up to see Buffy and Xander staring at their own wrist computers. Her heart began to fall as the calculation of distance flashed on to the display. It would take weeks of snaking through the subway tunnels and crawling across the vast ruins to reach. _Weeks_.

The hiss of static filled the air. Willow looked up abruptly at Xander, who had switched his PipBoy to broadcast the available radio frequency. A deep, smooth voice that sounded only vaguely reminiscent of Andrew's whine became clear as the static faded. "That's right, from Megaton to Girdershade, Paradise Falls to the Republic of Dave, we're coming to you loud and proud with a special report. This is Three Dog," the voice paused to howl, "and we're back on the air! And you children are never gonna believe who's responsible; I tell you, I couldn't even make this story up. You all remember Giles, the mysterious man of science from Vault 101? And surely you remember my scintillating follow up story about the other poor slobs who managed to crawl out of the Vault right after him? Well they came to visit old Three Dog down at the lovely Galaxy News Radio HQ and you will never believe who they were. _His kids_. I know, right?! How crazy is that?"

"They selflessly volunteered to help Three Dog continue the Good Fight, going out into the ruins to repair the tower without a thought for their own lives." Buffy snorted; even Willow couldn't help but roll her eyes at the whitewashing. "And now they're off looking for the mystery man himself. I don't doubt that they're already hot on the trail, so let's wish them the best of luck, loyal listeners!" There was a brief, heavy pause. "Giles, if you're listening, your girls are looking for you. I hope you all find each other. This one goes out to all the Vault Dwellers; I think you'll like it." The opening chords of the song rang cold in Willow's ears and the whole world seem to stop as the voice began to sing.

"Oh my god," Buffy breathed as all the blood drained from her face. Xander looked frantically between the two of them, "What? What's wrong? You both look like you've seen a ghost." Willow swallowed hard, trying to form words as tears filled her eyes. Memories of Giles swelled up violently in her head; his sharp, gentle eyes, the rough warmth of his hands, the deep, clear voice in which he sang. "Giles would sing this when we were little," she whispered, watching Buffy physically crumble under the weight of sorrow and betrayal. Xander looked utterly confused. "But I've never heard this song before. It can't have been on the records in the Vault; we listened to them all a million times. How could he…"

"It means he was out here before," Willow answered before the question was finished, standing up only to crouch down against next to Buffy. She stiffened under Willow embrace, but did not make any move to break it.

"It means he was never from the Vault."

* * *

He lied. From the time she knew how to ask about his life, her mother's, her own, he had _lied_. The force of emotion she had held down from the moment Cordelia had set them on this path in a place and time that felt worlds away was clawing at her throat. The grief of losing him was torn anew, magnified by the thought of the man she knew was nothing more than a construct. Was he even a doctor? Was he even her father? She was lost within the betrayal, drowning in sorrow and panic and fear of the exponentially growing unknown. The last link to reality, the only sensation keeping her head above the water was the tight, damp warmth of Willow's hand wrapped around her own.

She could hear Xander talking quietly, the words muffled and distant. She could tell she was being lead somewhere, but couldn't tear herself from the thick, suffocating emotions for long enough to ask where. The killer's instinct hummed low and insistent under her skin, but even that icy clarity could not penetrate the pain. She heard Willow's voice more clearly, soft and scared and tugging her attention back to the outside world.

"Buffy, Buffy look at me. Please." She turned her head to meet Willow's eyes, vaguely aware that the familiar green was glassed over with a silvery blue by the dim light. "Buffy, we need to find somewhere to hide for tonight. There's something moving around under the Mall and I really don't want to find out what. Xander says that when we were back in Megaton Gob told him about a ghoul city in the Natural History Museum, which is right over there. Gob's mom is there and she could give us somewhere to sleep. We're going to go there, ok?" The words made sense, so Buffy nodded. Willow's hand was hot against her cheek.

"We'll talk. I promise. We're going to find somewhere safe, we'll sleep and then we'll talk until this makes sense."

"It will never make sense," Buffy heard herself say. "He lied. He's a lie. I'm a lie."

"Stop it," Willow hissed, jerking them to a stop around the corner of a dark, stone building. "You are not a lie. You know who you are. You're Buffy, you always will be no matter who Giles is, or was." Buffy stared at her blankly.

"She's right, Buff." Xander's hand was solid and warm on her back. "Focus on the truth, on the real. You really kneed Percy in the nuts when you saw him beating on me after school, and then threatened to do the same to me when I tried to be Mr. Macho afterwards. You really spent _three hours_ explaining to us how to properly accessorize a work jumpsuit. You really took the time to help anyone who asked you for something, no matter how little or pointless it was." She did remember these things, even if they were long ago and far away. Willow nodded frantically, tugging her forward through heavy metal doors.

"You really got into a fight with Cordelia when she started picking on me for raising my hand in class. You really came up with pranks for us to pull on the Overseer when he got too high and mighty sounding. All those things really happened and that's who you really are. That's the truth." Memories began to push back the choking confusion. She noticed the stale smell of dust and mold, the smoky crackling of burning paper, the loud echoes of her own steps in a massive, enclosed space. "This is real," she murmured to herself, watching Xander nod enthusiastically as he passed her.

"The realest, Buffster. You don't need anything more than what you've done to know what you are. You're the Good Guy, and Will and I are your plucky sidekicks. And that's…really creepy," he trailed off, staring up at something above them. Buffy followed his line of sight only to find a carved stone skull the size of several men looming over another set of metal doors. A fire burned in a metal canister to the side of the doors, casting nightmarish shadows across the room.

Xander started talking again as he tentatively lead them through the entrance, but Buffy could not hear him anymore. As the feelings she had held back for so long began to ebb, the uncounted physical trials she had put her body through flooded into awareness. She hurt everywhere; every muscle burned with strain, bruises throbbed darkly under her skin and her feet were on fire. The dim, orange lighting of Underworld's lobby enveloped her, washing long ignored exhaustion into her eyes. She did not fight when her knees started to sag.

Arms cinched hard around her waist, holding her above the ground until they let her down on a cold bench. She opened her eyes to see Willow kneeling in front of her, felt fingers against the skin of her neck and registered Willow's sigh of relief before letting them close again. Someone sat beside her, pulling her head onto a familiar shoulder. Xander's shirt was rank with fear and exertion, but the rise and fall of his chest was slow and steady and unquestionably real. Willow's slight weight pressed gently down on her own shoulder and, surrounded by safety and at last returned to herself, Buffy Summers slept.


	5. Reilly's Rangers

**Chapter 4: Reilly's Rangers**

Looking down at the handful of change, Xander found himself flummoxed by how expensive the necessities of life had proven to be. Gob's mother, Carol, had been so delighted to have news of her son that she shaved ten percent of her prices for them, and yet a week's worth of food and ammunition had cost them all but a handful of the caps they had. How did people stay alive out here with these prices? He really doubted that everyone in the wasteland was lucky enough to find hidden stashes of money in the picked-clean buildings of downtown DC, even if he had been fortunate to find his own.

"Can we go by their medical ward?" Willow asked, parsing through the caps in Xander's hand with a critical eye. "We ran out of stimpacks on the Mall. I kind of doubt we can afford any more, but they may have some bandages or pain medication they'd be willing to sell." He thought it sounded like a promising idea and glanced over to Buffy for confirmation. She was staring at the wall opposite them, an absent sort of displeasure written deeply across her face. Buffy had been dangerously quiet since they came to on the bench in the lobby; no longer wracked with rage and frenzied grief, but not yet fully restored to her old, irrepressible self.

"Good idea, Will," Xander said, wincing when Buffy tensed under the hand he laid on her shoulder. "Let's head on back." They started off down the long concourse, mostly avoiding the curious eyes of Underworld's inhabitants. The ghouls had been nothing but kind to them, but the whole experience of the settlement was a little surreal for Xander. He had always loved the old zombie films they played in the Vault, but to find oneself surrounded by walking, talking desiccated bodies was a tad unsettling. When they reached the end of the hallways he looked up at the name spray painted above the door. "The Chop Shop," he read aloud, "How…charming."

The air smelled of copper and antiseptic as they stepped into the clinic. A male ghoul with patches of lank hair clinging to his skull looked up from a clipboard as they entered. "Ooh, the smoothskins!" he croaked, setting the papers down on a desk as he approached them. "I had hoped you would come by to see me. You people are just so fascinating to study, but so hard to come by these days. I could always use some fresh human samples for my research." Xander felt a little like a piece of meat as the ghoul circled the three of them with an appraising eye. "We, uh, we really just wanted to see if we could buy some medical supplies from you, sir," he stammered, putting his arms protectively around the girls' shoulders in a manner he hoped came off as casual.

The ghoul laughed, a sound more like rocks grinding upon each other than of mirth. "Calm down, boy, I'm just fucking with you. Mostly." He walked behind a desk and dropped into a chair. "Now, what can Doc Barrows do for you?" Xander relaxed a little, at least enough to loosen his grip on Willow's shoulders as she stepped a little closer to the doctor. She opened her mouth to speak, but looked suddenly towards one of the hospital beds hidden from Xander's view before anything happened. Barrows followed her line of sight, shaking his head sadly. "That's Reilly," he rasped. "She runs a merc company that trades scrap with us sometimes. We found her passed out by the entrance a couple days ago, unresponsive and beat to hell. I don't know enough about humans to figure out what's keeping her from waking up."

Xander let go of Buffy and stepped up next to Willow to get a look. On the gurney was a woman, curled on her side facing away from them. Clad only in thin, dirt-streaked underclothes, Xander tried very hard to only notice the way her dark hair clung damply to the back of her neck. Willow walked over to the woman and gently turned her on to her back before examining her for injuries. He could see now that the woman had rather striking features under the layers of sweat and grime, attractively high cheekbones and full lips. He was a little ashamed that he noticed that before the large patch of hair matted to her skull with blood.

Willow rattled off some medical words he didn't understand as she traced the woman's wound with her fingertips. The ghoul doctor replied with more indecipherable mumbo-jumbo but got up from his desk and retrieved a vial of something and a syringe from a nearby cabinet, as well as a white box with a green cross painted over top of it. Willow thanked him and opened the box, pulling out a cloth and a small flashlight. She used her fingers to hold open the woman's eyelids as she shined the light into them. Xander could see the woman's brown eyes contract under the beam, which seemed like it should be a good sign. Putting down the flashlight, Willow wet the cloth with something from the box and cleaned the wound on the woman's head, revealing it to be much smaller than Xander had anticipated it being.

Tossing the red-stained cloth towards a waste basket, Willow reached for the vial and syringe. She filled it about halfway, squinting at a specific dosage amount that Xander couldn't make out. "Xander, can you rip open that packet in the top right corner and wipe the cloth on the needle and this part of her arm?" Willow asked, nodding down at woman. Xander sprung into motion, grabbing the flat, square paper package and sundering it with enough force to tear the damp cloth inside it. He smiled sheepishly under Willow's disapproving glare, wiping down the needle then the patch of skin Willow had indicated. The cloth was left his hands feeling cold, as if the liquid it was soaked with evaporated off his skin almost immediately.

Willow leaned forward slightly, bracing herself with one hand on the woman's upper arm as she slid the needle under her skin and depressed the plunger of the syringe. When she withdrew, a single drop of blood pushed out of the injection site. She stood back next to Xander, seeming to hold her breath as they watched the woman. Within moments she started to move, faintly shifting her body as if in pain. There was a single deep breath, and the woman opened her eyes. Her head lolled to the side and she stared at Willow and Xander with confusion.

"Well you sure as hell aren't ghouls," she said hoarsely, wincing at the pain of speaking after such a prolonged silence. Willow stepped forward again, grabbing the flashlight and tipping the woman's head until she was facing upwards. Xander felt Buffy move up beside him as Willow spoke. "You're in the clinic in Underworld. Can you tell me your name and the last date you remember?" Willow's tone was all business as she shone the light into each of the woman's eyes, grasping her wrist as she weakly tried to bat Willow away. "Jesus, fuck! My name is Faith Reilly and it's August 26, 2277. Will you stop that, it fucking hurts!"

"I'm sorry, I need to see if you have a concussion. You've suffered a major blow to the head and may have some bleeding in your brain. And it's the twenty-eighth, now, by the way."

"The fuck it is, get the hell off me," Faith growled, shoving Willow away with enough force to make her stumble backwards. She swung her legs off the table and sat up, groaning and clutching at her head as she did. Buffy forward and grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, speaking in a low, threatening voice Xander had come to fear. "I would feel really bad about hitting an injured person, so how about you save me the trouble and don't touch her again, ok?" The way Faith looked up at Buffy indicated to Xander that she was seriously considering taking up Buffy's challenge, but her expression quickly faded to exhausted confusion. "Fine. Whatever. Sorry over there, Red," she sighed, dropping her head into her hands with a groan.

"It's ok," Willow squeaked, pointedly lingering out of Faith's reach, "It's pretty normal that you're a little disoriented after a head injury." Barrows exited the room from the back, chucking about humans under his breath. Faith looked up again, eyes trailing from Willow to Xander before coming to rest on Buffy. "Is it seriously the twenty-eighth?" she asked quietly. Buffy nodded impassively. "Fuck," Faith hissed, squeezing her eyes closed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Xander wondered why the date mattered so much to her.

She pushed up suddenly to her feet, swaying slightly as a terrible pallor flashed over her. "I gotta go. I don't have anything for you, but thanks for saving my hide. Have you seen a set of combat armor, green, scratched up?" Xander pointed behind him to a gurney where the armor and a metal pack frame lay. Faith shambled over to the table, wrenching a curtain in front of it to hide herself from view. Willow returned to where Buffy and Xander were standing, worry clearly written on her face. "She's barely in any condition to walk, let alone go out and deal with all the nasty things outside by herself. She could die!" Willow whispered frantically, glancing over her shoulder as she spoke. Buffy muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'let her,' looking away when Willow fixed her with a reproachful glare.

"Maybe we can help her," Xander offered. Buffy looked up at him in stony silence. "What? We don't have enough supplies to get to Rivet City anyways. She could use the help and we could use some friends out here." He trailed off when Faith stepped out from behind the curtain, eyeing the three of them suspiciously. "I told you I don't have anything for you. Why do you want to help me?" Xander and Willow looked expectantly at Buffy, who sighed.

"Because you need help."

Faith let out a bark of laughter, her expression fading from incredulity to faint hope. "Will you look at that; a troop of goddamn girl scouts. You got names?"

"I'm Xander, that's Willow and this is Buffy," Xander supplied helpfully. Faith snorted, "Those are some weird ass names you got there. Can you handle those guns you're carrying?" He nodded enthusiastically even as Willow gulped and Buffy snorted incredulously. Faith pulled a sawn-off shotgun of her own out of her pack and pumped it aggressively. "I can't promise you more than a place to sleep after this is all done, but if you're so determined to help I'm not gonna turn you down. My crew is trapped up on the roof of the Statesman Hotel. Major super mutant infestation. If you're still in, let's roll out."

* * *

"Oh _yuck_," Willow scrubbed her hands across the rough fabric of her pants, frowning deeply when they came away only marginally less dirty. "Why does everything in the god-forsaken city have to be so slimy?"

"Used to be a swamp, girlfriend," Faith said, smacking her hand against the barrel of her gun to clear out a jam. "Places like this that got sealed up after the bombs got nice and moist." Willow wrinkled her nose at the description. She shook her arms out in a vain attempt to dry out the layers of muck plastered to her skin as she looked around the cleared hospital cafeteria. When they had reached the Statesman at the beginning of the day they were greeted by an aggressive cohort of super mutants and a completely impassible front door. Luckily for them the ancient hospital on a neighboring block hard partially collapsed, creating a rickety bridge of twisted steel that lead right to the upper floors of the hotel. They had made remarkable time thanks to Faith's seemingly preternatural ability to sense approaching threats. Even Buffy was caught off guard by her effectiveness, though Willow was unsure why that surprise was being translated into permanent scowl.

"Yo, hold up, I'm running low," Faith called out as Buffy started up a staircase on the opposite side of the room. Faith walked over to one of the bullet-ridden super mutant corpses, bracing one foot against its shoulder and pushing hard with her leg. "What are you doing?" Buffy asked sharply as she returned to the floor, grimacing when the monster's ruined face was revealed. Faith ignored her, crowing with delight when she saw the shotgun clutched in the dead beast's hands. "Aha! I thought I heard buckshot. Hand it over, you ugly sumbitch." She freed the weapon with a couple of sharp jerks upwards, and then worked the pump until it stopped spitting out shells. The unused cartridges made soft, wet thumps in the blood congealing on the mutant's chest.

"I'm looting, Princess. He sure as hell can't use these anymore," she scooped up the ammunition before leaning over the corpse and unbuckling the crude pauldron strapped over its shoulder. A handful of caps and some strips of dried meat tumbled out onto the floor. Willow was simultaneously disgusted and intrigued. It had not occurred to her that the mutants would carry recognizably useful things, and it was true that the living would find them far more valuable than the dead. The idea of picking over a corpse was a deeply uncomfortable one, but not as uncomfortable as the noticeably slight weight of supplies in her pack.

"What's with the look? Don't tell me you managed to stay alive out here _and_ keep your pretty little hands so clean. And you," Faith glared over at Xander, who was fiddling idly with his gun a few feet away, "What the hell is your problem? I've seen feral ghouls that can work an assault rifle better than you can. When did you start shooting with it, last week?"

"No," he said defensively, shuffling his feet against the moldy floor. "It was more like the week before last." Faith looked incredulously between the three of them, her eyes widening when neither Buffy nor Willow contradicted him. "No shit? Where the hell are you from where they don't teach you how to use a gun by your age?" Willow glanced over at Buffy, rolling her eyes at the 'none of your business' expression written clearly on her face. "We're from Vault 101," Willow answered, pointedly ignoring Buffy's squeak of outrage, "It's kind of a long story, but we're looking for someone else from the Vault who left a little while before we did."

Faith chuckled darkly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Of course you are. Have to carry the surreality forward, don't we?" She looked over at Willow with a strange expression, somehow more apprehensive than aggravated. "Well one thing's for sure; you all ain't gonna survive another two weeks in the big, bad world with the shit skills you got now. Guess I can show you the ropes while we get up to my guys." She walked over to Xander and snatched the gun from his hands. "You're first, big guy. If you don't learn how to work this sucker right, you're gonna end up fillin' one of those girls with lead instead of the thing you're aiming at." Xander blanched at the thought.

Faith ejected the almost-empty clip, reaching up to her pack to pull out another before slapping it onto the bottom of the gun and flicking off the safety. She brought the rifle up, bracing the stock against her shoulder so she could stare down the sights. "You hold it like this to keep it stable," she started, "finger off the trigger until the target is in the sights, got it?" Xander nodded enthusiastically, circling around Faith to see what she was doing. Once he completed the circuit, Faith started walking towards the stairs. "You can't just spray and pray, the recoil will drive the barrel up. Ya gotta shoot in short, controlled bursts; just long enough to say 'die motherfucker die' in your head. Ah, let me demonstrate."

There was a triumphant sounding roar from the top of the stairs. Willow felt the ever present terror flare to life once again as a particularly large super mutant descended into her field of view, barreling strait towards Faith. She looked up at the creature with a slow, predatory grin. "Hiya, gorgeous," she drawled, loosing one, two, three bursts of fire from the assault rifle. The beast let out a rattling crying of pain as it died, rolling down the remainder of the stairs to stop inches before Faith's feet. She flipped on the safety and tossed the gun back to Xander before planting one foot on the corpse like a conquering hero.

"Questions? Comments? Concerns?" she said with a cocky grin. Willow slowly shook her head, watching Buffy hide her own amazement with a scoff. "Sweet. Now, for lesson number two," Faith looked around thoughtfully, catching sight of something under the stairs outside of Willow's vision. "Red, you seem like the brains of the operation. Get over here and I'll show ya how to jimmy your way into old soda machines." Willow thought it was rather impressive that she managed to flush with the praise while simultaneously wilting under Buffy's silent, angry gaze. Maybe she felt challenged, Willow thought idly as she followed after Faith.

"Why, exactly, would that be a constructive use of our time?" Buffy said archly as she followed them around the corner. Faith didn't answer her, dropping down to one knee before the flickering machine and pulling a screwdriver out of her boot. She looked up at Willow, making sure to emphasize the movements of jamming the tool into a slit in the rusting dispenser, jerking it up, down, and to the right. There was a metallic wheeze from deep within the machine, and in seconds a veritable fountain of bottle caps came spewing out of a hole near the bottom. Xander made a small sound of astonishment at the scene, and Faith looked over at Buffy with a supremely satisfied smile.

"That good enough for ya, B?"

Indignation burned in Buffy's eyes. Willow felt awe filling her own

* * *

"Alright, children, take five. Give your dogs a rest and grab a bite; we've only got one more floor to clear." Buffy felt her irritation rising again at Faith's dictate. They had been moving slowly and carefully through the never-ending maze of the hotel for what felt like months now. Too damn slowly, Buffy thought angrily as she watched Willow and Xander sit down heavily on a moldy couch without a second thought. She pushed away the quiet realization that the two of them were handling this pace much better than their previous mad dash, that they were becoming accustomed to the fight rather than succumbing to the endless fear of it. It was far easier for her to latch on to her aversion to Faith.

There was very little to like about her, really. She was loud and brash and insufferably knowledgeable. She had somehow managed to blind Willow and Xander to the innate danger she presented as an unknown with her stupid, obviously exaggerated stories about the exploits of her mercenary company. Buffy knew she could not be trusted. No one who walked around with that kind of swagger could.

Faith's voice drew Buffy out of her sour contemplation. "B, come over here, take a load off," she waved a handful of dried meat towards Buffy. "I've got some extra funky tasting ant jerky with your name on it." Beneath the initial flood of annoyance, Buffy did have to admit that she was sore and hungry. She walked over and sat down as far from Faith as the narrow bed frame would allow, snatching the food from Faith's hand without looking at her. They ate together in silence while Willow and Xander talked quietly on the other side of the dark room. The meat tasted awful, but it was filling, and her feet started tingling with relief the second she sat down.

"So," Faith began without preamble, "you _really_ don't like me." Buffy was thrown by the bluntness of the statement, managing only a slight nod in return. Faith made a thoughtful noise as she ripped off another huge bite of sinewy jerky. "I ain't tryin' to muscle in on you and yours, ya know," she mumbled through the mouthful of food. "I mean, they're your family, yeah?" Buffy nodded again, the faintest of smiles flitting over her face as Willow doubled over in laughter at something Xander said. She hadn't seen her laugh like that since they left the Vault.

"You're always gonna be their go-to gal. I'm just trying to help you get your bearings. I always heard growin' up that 101 was locked up solid and everything inside it was dead, so I half thought you guys were fucking with me when you told me where you were from. Lookin' at how much I've had to teach ya, though, I'm pretty sure you're telling the truth. Ain't no way you get to eighteen out here with what you know."

"We were doing fine before we ran into you," Buffy snapped, feeling her ire rise again. Faith snorted, "Please. When was the last time you got clean? Last time you got more than a couple hours sleep or had a full belly? Have you done any maintenance on your weapons? " She took a swig from a warm bottle of cola. "Face it, kid. You need what I got." Buffy seethed. The sheer arrogance of the woman was infuriating, and the fact that underneath it all she was actually _right_ was maddening beyond words.

"You're different from them." Faith broke the silence again. Buffy stared at her, uncomprehending and angry. "They shy away from the fighting, like good little kids who never knew real violence oughta. But you," she looked critically at Buffy, "you don't. You throw yourself in, body and soul. You even move like you were made for killing shit." Cold dread trickled down Buffy's arms, the muffled fear that there was something dangerously wrong with her screaming to front of her mind at the recognition in Faith's sharp gaze.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" she asked quietly, the words hitting Buffy with a sort of numb surprise. "Like when you see something that needs killing, the whole world just narrows down to you and it. And your whole body is just, like, this _machine_. Faster and stronger and harder than you know you really should be. And then, when you finally kill it, it just feels…I dunno…_right_. Like this is what you're for." Buffy was astonished. That was exactly what it felt like when the darkness took her, described in a way that no one should be able to know. Faith just continued to stare at her with a strange light in her eyes. "I always figured it was just me. Sorta nice to see someone else fucked up like I am." Buffy couldn't help but agree. Her distrust of Faith slowly began to dwindle.

A secretive smirk spread over Faith's face as she scooted closer to Buffy. She leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially in her ear, "So tell me, how do you feel afterwards? 'Cause I get wicked hungry and horny as hell." Buffy felt her entire body flush with horrified embarrassment and she shoved Faith away hard, even as Faith broke into loud, rowdy laughter. She studiously avoided Willow and Xander's questioning looks, and immediately shoved down the realization that her skin was still buzzing where Faith had touched it.

* * *

Explosives thundered just out of view as Faith threw open the door to the roof. She and took off towards the sound, roaring, "Go, go, go!" as she rounded the corner of the huge square structure taking up the middle of the level. And go Xander did, running after her as hard as he could. He skidded around the corner so fast that he would have fallen over had Willow not yanked him forward by his shirtsleeve. By the time Faith was back in view, Buffy was mere steps behind her and Xander's legs were on fire. He paused, gasping for air at the base of a grand staircase that lead up to some ancient, ruined patio. There was a final explosion just as Faith and Buffy cleared the top stair, follow by muffled shouting.

Xander took the stairs two at a time, his legs protesting each step of the way. By the time he reached the top the fight at ended. The blackened corpses of several dozen mutants lay strewn about the crumbling remains of stone columns and benches. Near the back wall of the enclosure was a make-shift barricade, and behind it were three figures just beginning to emerge. One ventured forward, making a beeline towards them. He was tall and broad shouldered, wearing well-maintained combat armor, dark green like Faith's. His grey eyes were filled with relief as he came into closer view.

"Jesus, Faith, is it good to see you alive," he said quickly, wrapping Faith in an embrace forceful enough to lift her feet off the ground. Faith pushed away from him with a frenzied sort of laugh, "Down, soldier. I told ya I'd be back to get you fuckers outta here." Movement behind them caught Xander's attention as a dark-skinned man of similar proportions and a small woman with black hair and wide eyes joined the group. "Good to see you, Boss," the other man said, clapping Faith on the shoulder. The woman nodded vehemently.

"Alright, alright, can the mush. We got shit to do," Faith waved her hand between the mercenaries and where Xander stood close behind Buffy and Willow. "Rangers, vault kids. Vault kids, Rangers." The grey-eyed man stepped forward with an extended hand. "Riley Finn, good to meet you. Over there's Forrest Gates and Satsu. We don't know if she has a second name, she doesn't talk much." His handshake was firm and confident. "My guess is you fixed up our boss and wouldn't let her go off half cocked by herself _again_," he glared at Faith, "so you have my thanks. I don't know how we can repay you." He developed a sudden expression of surprise, as if something had just occurred to him. "Are you guys really from a Vault?"

"Enough," Faith cut in, unslinging her pack and rummaging through it for something. "Let's get everyone out off this roof alive then we can share life stories and braid each other's hair." She withdrew a heavy, rectangular battery. "We can't go back the way we came, the bastards will have at least doubled by now. Forrest, take this and see if you can get the elevator over there running. Take Xander with you; he was a mechanic." Xander perked up at the mention of his name, jogging after Forrest as he waved over his shoulder.

"You been around old-world machines much, kid?" he asked gruffly, prying the control panel open with a screwdriver. Xander nodded as he reached over the man's shoulder to hold down a combination of switches. "I was a junior maintenance guy at home. Musta fixed the stupid elevator at least three times a week." He grinned as the panel ejected a rusted battery, moving his foot swiftly out of the way as it hit the ground with a heavy metallic _crack_. Forrest let out a quiet grunt of approval, snapping the new battery into the vacated crevice and flicking a few more switches as Xander withdrew his hands. With a hiss of stale air that elevator whirred to life, the doors grinding open with the ring of a surprisingly cheerful bell.

"Way to go, guys," Faith said approvingly, handing them both several loaded clips of ammunition as she walked past them into the car. She continued to talk as she fed shells into her own gun. "Ok, ladies, this is all the ammo we have, so make it count. The elevator will bottom out in the lobby, which is gonna be crawling with mutants. This is a run-and-gun situation; I don't want any heroes or fucking glory hounds. Get out the door and regroup at the Compound by 0500, make radio contact if you get held up." She looked very seriously over at Xander, who felt the girls come up behind him. "Remember what I taught you and follow me. If I go down, follow Riley and don't stop until he tells you to." Her expression softened a little as the doors closed behind them.

"Not everyone would have done what you three have done for me. Don't think I won't remember it down the line. Now, safeties off and get behind us." Xander swallowed hard and did as he was told, eyes locked on the elevator doors as the sickening descent began.

* * *

Willow drifted into consciousness slowly, clinging sleepily to the dream bookshelves and blankets and safety. She shifted slightly, feeling her spine pop back into alignment as her stiff muscles relaxed into the new position. She felt the thin mattress under her hip and the rough rasp of cloth over her legs before the rush of memory carried her fully into awareness. They were in the Ranger's Compound, a fortified bunker in the eastern ruins of the city. She was warm and dry and comfortable, even though her eyelids remained too heavy to open.

She sighed to herself, flexing her fingers against the skin of her stomach. It was warm and untorn and delightfully free of grime. Willow had been all but certain that she would never in her life be clean again. The door to the compound had barely closed behind them when Faith had declared that they should hit the showers. Granted, the showers were nothing more than a washcloth and about ten bottles of water, but the relief had been unparalleled. Coupled with a double helping of the first hot meal she'd had in weeks, Willow had succumbed to sleep even before the rest of the Rangers returned.

A hushed conversation floated into her ear. She managed to crack her eyelids open just far enough to see two figures hunched over a table, the silhouettes of a man and a woman.

"I don't know how you managed it, Faith, but I'm damn glad you did. A couple hours more and we'd have been flat out of luck." There was a pause filled with the sounds of Riley's vigorous chewing. "Only seriously cheating death would make an MRE taste this good." Faith laughed; a short, sharp sound lacking in mirth. A heavy silence descended over them, leaving only the faint hum of the power generator and the light, whistling snores rising from Buffy's cot.

"What's on your mind, Boss? This one should in the win column; everyone's alive and we got the geo-data to finish the contract." Faith sighed, rising from the table with a muffled screech of metal chair legs on concrete. "I know, I know. But the only reason for both those things is the fact that these kids happen to pass through Underworld." Boots clicked on the floor as Faith began to pace. "I fucked up, Rye. I made the wrong call and almost got you all killed." "Faith," Riley started gently, "this contract is going to keep us in bread and bullets for months, how could we…"

"No," she interrupted angrily. "There's always another rich, deluded jackass looking for mapping data. I knew how bad the situation was the second we surface and decided to keep going. I backed us into a fucking corner and then bailed. _Me_." There was a metallic crack, a locker door wrapping around a fist. "I can't do it anymore, Rye. I ain't fit to lead with calls like that."

"Faith, no." Riley rose and walked over to her. "In the four years I've been following you I have never once doubted your command. Your bookkeeping skills, definitely, but never your command." Faith let out a breath of laughter at the joke. "It was a bad situation and you made the best call you could. At the end of the day, we're all here and we're all fine. That's all that matters." She sighed, boots clacking back over to the table. "Yeah, I guess so," she said quietly, her voice full of regret and incredulity. Riley's chair scuffed lightly against the floor as he sat down again.

"Look, maybe you just need some time off. I bet doing some real, tangible good would build you back up." Willow felt herself beginning to drift back to sleep in the prolonged quiet that followed the statement, faintly guilty for having inadvertently eavesdropped for so long. Faith's voice pulled her briefly back towards wakefulness. "They're heading for Rivet City. Lookin' for B and Red's dad. The traders in the marketplace'll skin 'em alive without someone who knows how to barter."

"Exactly," Riley said enthusiastically. "Go with them. They could sure use you there if they're as green as you say they are. Won't take you more than a week or two to get there and back, plenty of time to get your head back on straight." Being rather fond of her skin, Willow thought it sounded like grand idea, even if she was too tired to agree verbally. She was hopeful that Buffy wouldn't be too upset by Faith's continued presence; the two of them seemed to have been approaching a détente of sorts shortly before Willow had fallen asleep. A heavy warmth began to settle over her thoughts, pushing her insistently into the silence of unconsciousness. Her eyes closed of their own volition as one last exchange penetrated the darkness.

"That blonde one is really something, isn't she?"

"You have no idea, Rye."


	6. Scientific Pursuits

**Chapter 5: Scientific Pursuits**

Buffy reclined against a concrete boulder, scraping a fossilized potato chip through a half-empty tin of canned meat before popping it in her mouth. If she was honest, the food out here wasn't so different from the rehydrated rations in the Vault, even if it did start to make her nauseous with radiation exposure after a few days. The Rangers had seen to educating them about the use of anti-radiation medicine and gifted them with a liberal supply before they left the previous week, and Wasteland food had taken a definitive lead in the comparison as a result.

Thoughts of the Rangers brought to mind Faith's second in command, Riley Finn. He was certainly handsome, with his square jaw and smiling eyes, and he had been far more approachable than Faith. The way he spoke was gentle and authoritative, immediately making him a much more pleasant teacher. He was good and brave and strong and, somehow, surprisingly flat. The old Buffy might have been drawn to him, but the one forged by loss and conflict sought some unnamed quality that he did not posses. He would make a valuable ally, maybe even a good friend, but had potential for little more than that.

A burst of raucous laughter drew her attention over to the river bank, where Willow and Faith and Xander were skipping rocks across the green-tinged water. Looming in the distance, the colossal skeleton of what Faith called and aircraft carrier glinted darkly in the midday sun. Rivet City lay in the hollowed-out bowels of the ship, enjoying a level of protection in the ancient steel that few in the Wasteland could ever dream of. In accordance with Faith's new rules of travel, they had stopped for a meal and a break even though they were less than an hour's walk from their destination.

The pace had initially exasperated Buffy; the frequent breaks for food and maintenance, the slow plodding through the unlit train tunnels, stopping for the _entire_ night. It seemed like a gross misuse of what little time they had, but after a few days of travel she had to admit that the new way had its benefits. Regular amounts of food and sleep kept her strong and alert, relying more on her own instincts than the waves of adrenaline and death. They had used less ammunition more effectively, and had even found a good deal more by combing carefully through the ruins. While loath to admit she had been wrong, Buffy did have acknowledge that Faith's lessons would undoubtedly keep them whole and alive for much longer than they would have been otherwise.

"Hey B, get over here! I think they're talkin' about ya on the radio!" Buffy crunched down on the last of her lunch and hopped off the boulder, making her way over to the others. They had stopped playing around to eat and were gathered around Willow, who's PipBoy was blaring out a tinny rendition of Andrew's radio voice.

"That's right, children, it's time for more Adventures of the Slayer, that golden-haired angel of vengeance, the most beautiful and deadly daughter of Vault 101!" Buffy snorted, vaguely recalling the moniker from their encounter at the radio station. "I've gotten word that a band of mercs called Reilly's Rangers were trapped on a DC rooftop, pinned down by a hoard of super mutants. After days of clinging to life under a constant siege, who else came storming on to the roof to save the day but the mighty Slayer and her trusty sidekicks, the Vault Dwellers!"

"Hey, how come we don't get cool nicknames?" Willow interjected with a frown.

"All the Rangers made if off that roof alive, thanks to the Slayer. We already knew she was a champion of the Good Fight after she and her crew helped out old Three Dog, though, didn't we, listeners? It sure is good to see them spreading the love through the Capital Wastes. Keep it up, Slayer! We're all rooting for you here at Galaxy News Radio. Now, for some music."

"Check you out, radio star," Faith nudged playfully Buffy with her shoulder. "I don't even mind that _I_ did most of the work for your heroic rescue. I've always been a behind-the-scenes kinda gal anyways." Buffy shoved her back, even as she let a grudging smile escape. Each passing day she became more accustomed to Faith's company, her brash confidence slowly becoming more amusing than it was obnoxious. Her self-assurance bordered closely on arrogance, but Faith had proven time and time again over the last week that she had the skills to back up her talk.

"Have you dummies had enough time to eat or were you too busy playing 'disturb what's left of the local environment' to get around to it?" Buffy asked as she threw her arm around Willow's shoulders, deigning not to respond to Faith's jibe. Willow looked over at her with the shining, unabashed love only a sibling could posses, and the expression brought Buffy a flutter of happiness she thought she would never again experience. She was only beginning to understand how her single-mindedness upon leaving the Vault had affected Willow and Xander; how they had lived in the fear that, with Giles gone, she had gone mad with grief and bloodlust. To see such a warm and familiar look from Willow helped Buffy center herself around the positives of their situation, that she had managed to protect and hold together the remnants of her family, and that they were nearing a true, tangible lead on Giles' location.

"C'mon, Buff! All work and no play makes Xander a dull, mindless killing machine," Xander looked a little startled at his own words. "Wow, that sounded a lot less dark and creepy in my head." Faith snorted, stretching out her back before bending down to pull something from her pack. She withdrew a small bottle made of brown glass and unscrewed the top, popping several small blue pills into the palm of her hand. "Take your meds, guys. It'll do you good to get into a habit of taking 'em with food while you have a steady supply of both." Buffy leaned forward to snag one of the pills from Faith's hand, twisting her mouth at the bitter minty taste that clung to the back of her throat as she swallowed it. Rad-X was a less than pleasant consumable experience, but the elimination of exposure sickness was well worth the aftertaste.

"B's right, it's time to split," Faith continued, tossing the bottle back into her pack before slinging it over her shoulder. "Now, most of the folks in Rivet City are pretentious assholes. Act like they're so much smarter than the rest of the Wasters for having the good fortune to have gotten into the city. I hear the scientists are the worst, since they actually are smarter than most of us, so leave the talking to me until we get back to their super secret mystery lab. Ass kissing doesn't seem like your specialty, and it's gonna take more than intimidation to get into that wreck. Lucky for you, no one alive can resist my feminine wiles." She winked over at Xander, who blushed furiously and became very interested in the muddy riverbank. Faith looked to Buffy with a more serious expression, confident hope flickering in her dark eyes.

"Let's go find your pops."

* * *

Xander felt himself rising to a previously inconceivable level of frustration, which surely meant the Buffy was fast approaching the level of homicide. They had now been arguing with the truly unpleasant member of the Rivet City Security Force posted outside the entrance to the science lab for no less than an hour. The man steadfastly refused them entrance, even as the promises of compensatory pleasure gave way to outright threats of violence. He insisted that they needed clearance from the lead scientist, but refused to disclose that person's name or location.

"I'm going to say this one more time before I start stabbing things," Buffy growled as she forcefully invaded the guard's personal space. "I am looking for a man named Rupert Giles. He is a tall man with graying-brown hair and glasses. He was coming here to see a woman named Jenny Calendar, who I know is a scientist. Scientists work in labs. This is the only lab in the settlement. Logic says that she's in there, and I need to talk to her. _Now_." The guard looked ready to respond in the snide manner he had been addressing them with previously until the riveted door swung open behind him.

"What the hell is going on out here, Davis? We can't get anything done with this racket going on out…" the angry woman in a faded white lab coat trailed off when she looked over to where Xander and the others were gathered. When she caught sight of Buffy, all the blood drained from her face and her eyes filled with haunted terror. "Oh my god," she breathed, stepping out of the doorway and making her way over to them. "You're Buffy," she whispered disbelievingly. "Giles said you looked just like Joyce, but you have his eyes." Buffy stared up at the woman, caught somewhere between confusion, aggression and panicked hope.

"Are you Jenny Calendar?" Buffy asked suspiciously, shifting slightly to position herself between the woman and the rest of the group. The woman swallowed and nodded. "I have information that my dad was coming here to see you. Do you know where he is?"

"Does he know where _you_ are?" she answered. "Giles told me he left you in the Vault to keep you safe. Why on earth did you leave?"

"None of your damn business. Now answer the lady's question," Faith cut in, taking an aggressive step forward. Xander watch Buffy lay a restraining hand on Faith's arm and flash her a tight smile before stepping forward herself. She looked up defiantly at the scientist, as if challenging her to resist Faith's order.

"Giles came to see me, but I couldn't help him so he left," the woman's eyes widened as she watched Buffy's hand wrap tightly around the combat knife sheathed at her hip. "I know where he was heading!" she blurted quickly. "I can tell you everything you need to know, but we should do it somewhere more private. Come with me to my office. Your...friends…will need to stay here, though; we can't have that many unauthorized people in the lab."

"Well, then, you'd better authorize them, 'cause I'm not going anywhere without them." Xander felt his heartbeat pick up as Buffy drew her knife slowly and deliberately. The woman paled further, stepping out of the doorway and back into the lab. "I suppose we can make an exception. Please follow me and don't touch anything."

They trundled down a steep metal staircase into a wide, open lab space filled with loud machinery. Xander kept his eyes forward, even when he felt the stares of the other scientists and heard their whispered judgments. He couldn't help but smile at Willow, who slowed with little exclamations of awe at every piece of lab equipment they passed. When the scientists started towards them with anger clear in their expressions, he put a firm hand on Willow's backpack and guided her into Calendar's office behind Buffy and Faith. As he closed the door behind them, Dr. Calendar sat in a squeaky chair behind a well organized desk. She looked over at Buffy with haunted eyes.

"You really do look so much like Joyce. I feel as if I'm talking to a ghost," she sighed. Buffy stared at the woman apprehensively, vulnerable in a way Xander had rarely seen her. "You knew my mom?" she said so softly Xander almost didn't hear her. Dr. Calendar nodded sadly, "Yes. She and Rupert and I all used to work together, before you were born. She was a remarkable woman, so full of life and passion." A wistful smile stole over her face. "Your father loved her very much." Buffy did not speak for several moments. Xander knew from the subtle trembling of her shoulders that she had been reduced to tears.

"What did you work on together?" Willow asked, stepping forward and slipping her hand into Buffy's. Calendar frowned, "Something that I thought died with Joyce, but it seems Rupert has been too stubborn to let it go, even after all these years." She looked up thoughtfully at the girls. "You must be his ward. Willow, isn't it?" Willow nodded, even as her mouth twisted uncomfortably at the classification. "Did he raise you in The Faith?" Willow shook her head uncertainly, saying, "Not really. He taught us a little about the Bible, but that's about it. There was one quote from Revelation that was Buffy's mom's favorite, I remember."

"I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I shall give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely," Buffy interrupted in a voice thick with emotion. "Revelation 21:6. It's the only thing I've ever really had of her's." Dr. Calendar looked almost as upset as Buffy, tears glimmering in her dark eyes. "That always was her favorite saying. That was the inspiration for our work, Project Purity. Free, clean water for everyone in the Capital Wasteland. No muck, no radiation, just _water_. We were going to change the world." Calendar's expression grew angry. "We were young and idealistic and so, so _stupid_ to think it would be that easy. We built a purification facility in the Jefferson Memorial; we spent years trying to get it to work with almost no progress. Then everything went to hell."

"The only way we managed to stay alive there for so long was with the help of the Brotherhood of Steel. They protected us from super mutant attacks in exchange for management of the project when we achieved success. But right about, I guess is must have been nineteen years ago now, the attacks started getting worse; more frequent and intense than they had ever been before. Coupled with our complete lack of progress and Joyce's sudden pregnancy, the Brotherhood saw fit to withdraw their support." Xander felt anger rise hotly in his chest, immediately understanding why Giles had hidden his movements from the Brotherhood at the radio station.

"By the time the birth had arrived our work was in ruins. We barely managed to secure a clean room in time." Calendar looked up at Buffy with stark regret in her gaze. "I am so sorry we couldn't save your mother. We tried everything we had available to keep her alive, but there was nothing we could do." She sighed deeply, looking down at her desk. "Her death almost destroyed Rupert. You were the only thing he had to live for, and he was determined to keep you safe from the awful world that had stolen your mother from him. He…he abandoned us; just got up and left with you in the middle of the night without even saying goodbye. I had heard him talk about running away to some Vault where he knew the overseer from his younger days, but I always assumed it was just a fantasy."

Calendar looked up from the desk. "He arrived here a little less than two weeks ago, insisting that I help him get the project back online. He told me it was time to finish Joyce's dream at last. Never mind that it's just been sitting there for two decades, gathering rust and god knows what else. Never mind that I had to move on with my life, that my work now is producing real, tangible results," she stared blankly at the door to the lab. "He was like a man possessed. So like the man I…" she trailed off before looking straight at Buffy.

"He seemed prepared to finish the project with or without me. I don't know exactly where he is, but my bet is that he's still at the Jefferson Memorial."

* * *

The unnerving effect of the ghostly emergency lights in the rotunda was not at all helped by the creaking hum of a hidden backup power generator. Willow was beginning to think that even the way the water gurgled in the holding tank at the center of the purifier platform was ominous. While the Jefferson Memorial had not taken long to reach, the sun had still set upon them as they cleared the perimeter of super mutant invaders. They had found another handful of monsters hidden within the ruins, but the silence as they entered the cavernous main chamber of the memorial suggested that the area was at last clear. Willow found herself reluctant to put her gun away, regardless, and clutched it tightly as she mounted the ramp that led to the heart of Project Purity.

The raised platform was constructed around a massive tank of murky water, a painful reminder of the project's continued failure. A number of large computers were packed tightly against the platform's enclosure, making it a rather narrow space to traverse. Closet-sized tape drives whirred steadily beside them, recording every fluctuation of data from the tank. The implications of the sheer computing power gathered around her would have been unbelievably exciting to Willow, but she could not shake the creeping apprehension that she was not alone in the room.

Something caught her eye as she passed a narrow metal desk. She hesitated slightly, glancing down at the table to see a collection of tapes spread across the surface in a way that suggested that they had previously been neatly stacked. Just as she began to reach for the nearest one a deep, terrifying laugh grated across her ears.

"Ahh, found you!" a hulking, green mass of super mutant filled her field of vision. It cocked a rusting hunting rifle and leveled the barrel at her with a lipless, yellowed grin. Willow froze, her feet somehow rooted to the floor even as her mind screamed to run. Cold acceptance settled heavily in her stomach.

"Will, down!" Her body at last came to life, knees collapsing and careening forward even before she could summon the conscious thought to do so. She hit the floor with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs, covering her head with her hands and pressing herself tightly against the floor. She focused on the painful scraping of metal against her face and the concussive cracks of gunfire speeding over her to keep from slipping into the animal panic of breathlessness.

It was over as suddenly as it began. A slim arm reached under her shoulders and flipped her onto her back just as she managed to pull in a deep, full breath of damp air. Buffy was kneeling above her, concern clear in her eyes even as her body still radiated the ethereal thrill of death. Willow tried to smile reassuringly as Buffy wrapped a hand around her wrist and pulled her to a sitting position.

"I'm starting to think you like coming in and saving my life at the last possible minute. Who knew you were a drama queen?" Buffy swatted her arm playfully before helping her to her feet. Running a shaky hand through her hair, Willow looked around for the tapes that had caught her attention before the super mutant's appearance. She found the desk again as Xander and Faith thundered up the ramp behind her, drawn by the sounds of fighting.

"Everyone five by five?" Faith panted, scanning the room for more enemies. Xander walked up to Buffy and Willow, touching each of them gently as if to reassure himself that they were truly safe and whole. Willow smiled up at him before turning her attention back to the tapes. "We're fine, Faith. I took care of it. What does that even mean, five by five?" Buffy asked, narrowing her eyes at Faith. Willow interrupted before an answer could be delivered.

"I saw these audio tapes before Mr. Ugly showed up," she picked one of the tapes up, turning it over in her hands. "There's barely any dust on them and it looks like they were stacked up in a corner before something knocked them over. Maybe Giles used them?" She knew she was reaching, but they had found no sign of him in the Memorial so far and she was becoming desperate to see any hint of his presence. "Good eye, Wills," Buffy stepped up next to Willow, grabbing another tape and attempting to feed it into the tape deck of her PipBoy. It slid in with almost no resistance and the speaker clicked to life as the audio began. Giles voice filled the room.

"Well, here we are again. Project Purity and me. It's been…goodness, close to twenty years since my last entry. Since I left all of this behind to make a life for Buffy. We spent all that time in Vault 101, tucked away from the rest of the world. I took on care of another child, Willow, and raised her and Buffy as sisters. Even young Xander managed to make his way into our strange little family. It wasn't perfect, but I did my best to keep them safe and teach them well. Now the children are grown. Buffy has become so beautiful, so confident. Just like her mother. And as hard as it was to admit it, she doesn't need me anymore. None of them do."

There was a sad sigh on the recording; a heavy pause where Willow was certain that her heart would beat right out of her chest. "So here I am, back where it all began. God, we really wanted to change the world. Even after nineteen years, I still believe we can. Project Purity can and _will_ be operational. This is just the beginning." The recording clicked off, leaving them all alone with the quiet whirring of the computers.

* * *

Hours later, as the last tape began to near the end of its reel, Buffy realized she wasn't even listening to the words anymore. Lying on a thin bedroll positioned near the door to the outside, she watched Willow frantically scratch notes on Giles' work down on yet another piece of water-stained scrap paper, having already filled several others with information. She let her eyes drift closed and listened to the low, masculine hum of her father's voice. The words lost all meaning among the familiar patterns of speech. She could almost see him speaking to them; the set of his jaw as he pondered a problem, the flash of a sudden realization in his eyes, the frustrated frown on his face as he cleaned his glasses yet again.

"Well I suppose I'm off to Vault 112, then, to search for anything of Braun's that might help me get this purifier up and running. All I know is that it's West of some place called 'Evergreen Mills', coordinates attached to this tape, and it's well hidden in some sort of garage. I'll find it. I have to. It's so close, but that's the story of Project Purity, isn't it? An eternity of "almost there's". Let's see if Braun has the missing puzzle piece." The tape clicked into silence. Buffy felt the loss physically.

"Shit, that was a lot of intel," Faith sighed, rubbing some of the sleep from her eyes. "Your pops sure is a talker. Did you get anything outta it, Red? You've been writing for hours now." Willow nodded with a wince, massaging her sore wrist with her unused hand. Xander yawned loudly from the other side of their makeshift encampment, sitting up and trying to look attentive. "Care to give one more tutoring session, Will? I'm not sure I understood much of what he was talking about. 'Cause I was totally listening the whole time, no sleeping over here, no siree."

Willow paged through her notes before beginning. "It was a lot of stuff, but there are a couple things that are immediately useful to us. Basically, Giles came back here almost right after he left the Vault, looks like it took him about a week to get here, and he realized he needed more help to get the supercomputer's mainframe back online. He went to Dr. Calendar, who didn't want to help him, so he came back here and tried to find another way to get everything going again. He remembered that when he was still at home, he got drunk one night when we were kids and broke into the Overseer's office, which, by the way, merits a Go Giles, and he read some stuff on the Overseer's computer about a guy named Stanislaus Braun, who was apparently some rock star scientist before the war, and his work on the Garden of Eden Creation Kit, or GECK. A GECK is some sort of terraforming device; it could make a whole living ecosystem from nothing, so Giles thought if he could get his hands on one, he could finally make the project work. It seems a handful of them were distributed to other Vaults in the DC area, and he was especially excited by the possibility of Vault 112 because this Braun guy was slated to go their way back in the day."

"Wow," Xander nodded thoughtfully. "I guess it's a good thing we found those tapes, I don't know if we'd have ever figured out where Giles was going on our own."

"I don't know," Willow frowned, "It all feels a little 'deus ex machina'-y to me."

"What's that mean?" Xander inquired. Willow shook her head, "Never mind. Pretty much all that matters to us is that Giles left to find Vault 112 about five days ago and the coordinated for the place near it are _way_ far away." She scooted over next to Buffy and held the wrist with her PipBoy attached to it near Buffy's face. It was, indeed, very far away; almost as far west as the small computer had the memory to map out. Faith got up from her bedroll and came around behind them, awkwardly resting a hand on Buffy's shoulder as she stooped to look at the map.

"Fuck," she whistled. "You weren't kidding, Red. That'll take you a good month to get to at a safe pace. You'd do good to stay away from Evergreen Mills, though. Place is a magnet for raiders." Buffy felt herself begin to drown in the silence that followed.

It would be so easy to slide back into numb hopelessness. So much easier than facing the terrifying prospect of leading Willow and Xander even further into the unknown. She knew this was no longer an option and the full weight of duty pressed down on her, heavy and cold. She found herself longing for the surety she had come to find in the fight, the single, unquestionable direction of violence. The thought of facing another convoluted leg in this hellish quest for her father was frightening in and of itself, but to endure it alone and without relying on the haze of darkness for strength and direction was paralyzing.

Faith hand tightened briefly around her shoulder, drawing her out of her own mind. She looked up into sharp, brown eyes filled with sad apprehension. "Don't look so glum, Princess. I'm not about to send you out into the wilderness with three bottles of water and a can of Cram. I'll need to contact the guys and let 'em I won't be back to base as soon as I thought, but I'll get you greenhorns road-ready before you know it." On the surface, Faith's words carried their usual bravado, but the undertone of uncertainty did nothing to slow the dread pooling in the pit of Buffy's stomach. Faith seemed to see this, and gave her a small, tight smile.

"Really, B. I ain't gonna leave until you're ready. I promise."

"Why do you want to keep helping us?" she asked quietly, unable to meet Faith's eyes any longer. She could hear the grin in Faith's voice as she answered.

"Because you need help."

* * *

"I really don't think we should be looting a museum," Xander heard Willow call out from beneath him, her voice muffled by the crumbling stone floor. "I mean, ruins outside are one thing, who's gonna use scrap metal and broken guns, but I think museums are where you're supposed to _keep_ old, valuable stuff. Or at least stuff that was valuable two hundred years ago. Will it be worth anything to anyone now? And if it is, wouldn't someone have taken it already? It's not like this is a super secret location or anything…" she trailed off as she came over the top of the stairs, face tinged red with embarrassment. Around a corner, Faith laughed.

"That not needing to breathe thing you got goin' on is gonna make someone real happy some day, Red." There was a creaking groan of metal being pried apart. "Honestly, though, this little adventure is more for me than for you guys. Got an old friend I owe one who thinks there's a picture somewhere in here his people need. Figured it was worth a quick paw through this crap now that I'm not KO'd down in Underworld. One last stop before we hit the road, y'know?" The answer satisfied Xander, even if it sparked his curiosity.

They had been scavenging the area behind the Mall for several days, collecting scraps of usable metal to sell for supplies. It was an incredibly successful tactic, and they now had at least two hundred pounds of material spread out between the four of them. So plentiful was their bounty that there was now no vendor in the city who could afford to compensate them for the entire haul. Faith had told them that the best bet for selling the lot of scrap for the fairest price was a trading town to the north of the city, a place called Canterbury Commons, where many of the trade caravans that wandered the Wasteland were based. There, they would be able to sell off the scrap and purchase enough supplies to keep them alive on the trail after Giles.

"What good will a musty old drawing do your friend?" Buffy asked, making a terrible face and coughing weakly as a dusty puff of air engulfed her face as it exited a display case. Xander clapped her lightly on the back as he peered around the corner, eager to see if Faith would answer. She did not do so immediately; instead, she walked past them carrying a large piece of thick, yellowed paper. When she located an unbroken display case, she bent down and pressed the paper flat against glass, revealing a schematic of an open rectangular building held up by a colonnade. There appeared to be a large statue of someone in the center of the structure.

"He runs a camp of escaped slaves," she said in a flat voice. "The only way he can keep most of them going is the promise that they'll restore the Lincoln Memorial and start helping other poor bastards get the hell outta dodge." Xander felt cold, acidic outrage creeping under his skin. He could vaguely remember mentions of Lincoln from his schooling in the Vault and knew the man to have been the leader of the United States who freed the slaves during some sort of war, but it had never occurred to him that slavery would still be an active force in the world today. The outrage was quickly overtaken by a wave of dread as he began to wonder how Faith might know the man.

"Faith, were you a…" Willow started in a quietly horrified voice. "Don't finish that question, Red. You're not ready for the answer yet," Faith cut in harshly, rolling up the paper and shoving it in her pack with sharp, agitated movements. "All you need to know is that Gunn helped me and mine out of a tight spot back in the day, and I owe him for keeping an eye on a girl who's practically my sister."

"You have a sister?" Xander blurted out before he could think better of it. Despite Buffy and Willow's pointed glares the question appeared to be well received by Faith. The corners of her mouth quirked upwards and her eyes took on a fond, reflective look as she answered. "Yeah, not by blood or anything, but we're about as close as you can be without it. She was the first really decent person I ever met, got me on the right road, helped me start up the Rangers."

"Why isn't she with you now?" Buffy asked quietly. "She's not really a fighter," Faith answered, gesturing that the group should begin down the stairs to the museum lobby. "Damn fine medic, though. Says she can do more good helping Gunn out than crawling around the city ruins with me." They passed through to the dimly lit entrance hall in silence, questions unasked and unanswered hanging heavily between them. Once they pushed through the main door into the blinding mid-morning light, Faith drew them to a halt, turning to look at Buffy.

"The camp is about a day northwest of Canterbury Commons. I know you're on the clock to get after your dad, but I need to get this to Gunn ASAP. I can drop you at the town and head out myself…"

"Shut up, Faith," Buffy smirked, a fairly accurate approximation of the expression usually found on Faith's face, Xander thought. "You know we're in. We owe you now, remember?" She had turned away from him to lead the group out towards the Mall, but Xander could see Faith's shoulders sag just slightly from relief. "Right on," she murmured, almost too quietly for him to hear. They started walking north, following the cracked remains of a concrete sidewalk past the Washington Monument in comfortable silence.

"What's her name, Faith?" Willow asked curiously.

"Tara," Faith answered. "Tara Maclay."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

The recordings of Giles were largely taken directly from the game, and credit must be given to the writers of Fallout 3 for those sections of this chapter.


	7. Head of State

**Chapter 6: Head of State**

"Are we getting close yet? I think my blisters have started growing itty bitty blisters of their own, and I'm pretty sure my legs are more chafe than actual leg. All that friction can't be good for all those potential little Xanders down there!"

"Ew, Xander," Willow scrunched up her nose at the thought. Buffy rolled her eyes as Faith scoffed, "Right, because they had such a promising future before them." Xander pouted, his mouth twisting into a wince as he rearranged himself yet again.

"S'not that much farther," Faith stated, pulling one arm across her chest to stretch the shoulder, "maybe another click up the road, if that." Willow sighed, a quiet breath of relief. As gross as Xander was being about it, she too was more than a little tired and uncomfortable. It was now the fourth day traveling at a pace Faith designated as a forced march, walking from sunup to sundown with a rotating watch at night. By the second day of travel the ashy grey of the city began to blur into the vast plains of dust that made up the Wasteland. While the threat of gun-toting mutants decreased significantly, the nights had become filled with attacks from vicious, radiation-mad animals. The brutal pace and the weight of her share of the scrap metal wore heavily on Willow, and she was beginning to catch herself daydreaming of an eternal nap in her bunk from the Vault.

"Yeah, Xander quit your whining. Wouldn't want to look like a wimp in front of all the girls at this powwow, would ya?" Buffy grinned over her shoulder. Willow was delighted, albeit surprised by Buffy's change of heart over the last few days. Even carrying the most weight while consistently volunteering for a double watch at night, her good mood could not be contained. She was talking, laughing, even bantering with them again. She wondered if it was as simple as the fact that their quest for Giles had a clear direction again, even if there were some necessary supply stops on the way. Willow was more than willing to cast aside any questions about the shift and simply enjoy the company of the Buffy she thought was lost forever the day they fled the Vault.

Faith snorted. "I wouldn't get your hopes up, Xan. Last time I radioed in Tara was the only stable gal in the joint, and she don't drive stick, if ya catch my meaning." The other three looked at her blankly. "What, really?" she looked from Buffy to Xander, "She's gay." Willow was perplexed; it was incredibly rare for her to encounter a term she had never come across in the hundreds of books she had read over the course of her life. Faith looked at the three children of the Vault with growing exasperation. "Seriously? She only fucks other girls!"

The feeling of an unrealized truth about the human condition clicking into one's understanding of the world was new to Willow, and she was sure the dumb, uncomfortable shock of it was written on her face. Buffy, too, looked dumbfounded, while Xander's expression was a puzzling mix of relief and pallid shame. Faith roared with laughter.

"Jesus, you should see your faces," she wiped at the tears forming at the corners of her eyes, "I forget sometime that you _literally_ lived under a rock until a month ago!" Buffy frowned at Faith as Willow tried frantically to coordinate her thoughts before the endless questions made their escape. Xander preempted the first of them, asking tentatively, "That…that can happen?"

"Yeah, dude," Faith sighed, regaining her composure, "Some girls only like girls, some boys only like boys. It ain't real common, but it happens. Personally, I could go either way," she winked at Buffy, who, for some reason, grew red and began to stare very intently at the road.

"And on that hilarious note, here we are," Faith declared as they passed over the top of a rise. About a hundred yards down the hill was a ruined concrete building with a sturdy looking chain link fence covering the hole where the main entrance once was. From a distance it looked uninhabited, but as they walked between the picked-clean ruins surrounding the structure, minute signs of life began to show themselves. A hidden pit full of cracked animal bones, unrusted land mines scattered across the rubble, the flitting movement of a laser sight.

As they approached the building, Faith leaned back and bellowed through cupped hands, "Yo, Gunn! Open up, you sumbitch, I found your damn picture!" A dark skinned man leaned out of a gaping hole in the exterior wall of the second floor, grinning widely. "Damn, girl, I know you were gone a while, but did you really manage to have three kids?" he called back before disappearing back into the building.

"Very funny," Faith said as the party reached the fence. "I'll make introductions once someone gets me a drink and a seat." Gunn reappeared moments later, unlocking the gate and letting them into the enclosure. As serious as his demeanor appeared to be he welcomed the four of them warmly, pulling Faith into an unwitting hug as he shook her hand. He offered to show Buffy, Willow and Xander around the camp and set off into the building as he motioned for them to follow. Willow was preoccupied with calculations of how soon the first moment to ask to remove her pack would arrive in polite conversation when a quickly walking figure brushed past her shoulder.

She turned slightly as she walked to watch the figure, a woman, begin running towards Faith. They collided at full speed, the woman throwing her arms around Faith and squeezing her hard. Faith gasped painfully, but hugged the woman back. "Whoa, Tare," she wheezed, "Ease up, I can't breathe!" Willow craned her neck to try and catch sight of the woman as she pulled back slightly. Faith had on a smile Willow had never seen on her before, wide and openly affectionate. "It's good to see ya, kid. How're things holding up here?"

Buffy's hand wrapped around Willow's wrist, and she was pulled around a corner before she could hear the answer.

* * *

Xander sighed with pleasure as he sank into the tired springs of a ratty couch. Willow had helped him treat and wrap his feet, applying some worryingly colored paste to the blisters that had caused his whole foot to feel pleasantly light and tingly. He took a small sip from the mug he had been given, delighting the sensation of sweet, clean water flowing over his tongue. The murky, irradiated water that supported the meager life of the Wasteland was a danger that had not occurred to him as they were leaving the Vault, and since Fred's little 'experiment' he had come to loathe its consumption with a passion. He vowed to himself that he would always take the time to savor any purified water he found from this point forward.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, feeling the layers of dust and sweat tugging against his skin. There wasn't much closed off space in the compound, so he had gallantly offered to let the girls towel off and change first. The inhabitants of the camp, called the Temple of the Union in honor of Lincoln, seem to skirt around Xander and his couch; understandably wary of strangers, he thought. Faith and Gunn were talking together on the top level of the building while keeping watch over the road. He took another sip of water and sighed again, content to luxuriate in the peaceful safety that seemed to be growing ever rarer in his life.

He didn't bother to open his eyes when he heard footsteps approaching, assuming it to be Willow or Buffy coming to tell him he could go clean up. An unfamiliar voice caused him to start so suddenly that he spilled a few drops of his precious water.

"Exc-c-cuse me, are you d-d-doing alright?"

Xander looked up to see a girl about his age standing awkwardly in front of him. She was taller than Buffy and Willow, with sandy brown hair streaked blonde by a life lived out under the sun. Her eyes were apprehensive and startlingly blue; a color Xander had never seen in eyes. She watched him expectantly for a moment before he realized he should respond to her question.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Totally fine. The hunkiest of dories, in fact," he started to get to his feet, wincing at the sting of pressure on his blisters. "Hi," he finished lamely, the greeting coming out as a more of a pained wheeze than he had hoped it would be. The girl's eyes widened as she quickly said, "No, no, please sit down." She reached out a hand and pushed lightly on his shoulder, and he sat down again with a mighty sigh.

"I'm s-sorry," the girl started, kneeling in front of Xander and taking hold of one of his feet, "Faith s-said you and your f-friends aren't used to b-being on the road. I'm the m-m-make do m-medic here, s-sort of." She reddened, seemingly frustrated by her difficulty communicating. Xander decided it was time to turn on the famous Harris charm.

"Well, no need to waste your services on little old me," he grinned, "We may be new to the road, but our Willow-tree can patch us up pretty darn well. She's read every medical book she's ever met, which is, well, infinitely more than I have, I suppose." The girl smiled at his light hearted self-depreciation, setting his foot down gently before standing up, pulling a bag off her shoulder. "I'm Xander, by the way. Xander Harris. And if you're the medic, then that means you must be Tara." He tried valiantly to keep his smile from slipping into a leer as his thoughts strayed to what precisely a girl could do with another girl. "Faith told us about you. It's nice to finally meet you."

Tara smiled timidly back at him. "It's n-nice to m-meet you, t-t-too. Faith told me y-you and your f-friends helped her s-save the Rangers. I w-wish there w-was some way I could t-thank you; th-they're like f-f-family to me."

"A smile like that is thanks enough," Xander flirted instinctively, his face reddening in embarrassment when he realized what he had said. "And, y'know, giving us a place to crash and wash up is pretty great, too." Tara's smile widened, appearing more amused than offended by his advance. She reached into the canvass she was holding and pulled out a can of Cram and a fork, saying, "You should t-try and eat s-something. I have some f-for your f-f-friends, too." Xander accepted the food, spotting a damp haired Willow walking up behind Tara. "Oh wow, thanks, Tara. I'm so hungry I could eat a rock," he started pulling excitedly at the tab on the can's lid, "Willow is right behind you if you want to give her some food, too."

Tara turned abruptly, coming face to face Willow. Much later, Xander would think back to that meeting and wonder if he could have predicted what would happen, if there was a breathy quality to Willow's, "Hi," or a subtle change to Tara's posture. In the moment, though, he only noticed the unctuous squish of the canned meat as he shoveled it into his mouth, and the siren song of sleep humming up into his body from the couch.

* * *

Buffy stared absently into the dying campfire, sitting quietly with the apprehension churning in her stomach. Something major was developing nearby, and she knew sleep would not come until figured out what. She shifted in her seat, testing the mobility she had left in her position between Willow and Xander. The pair of them had fallen asleep around her; Xander sprawled to her right, one long arm stretched across the back of the couch, and Willow on her left, head resting heavily on Buffy's shoulder. With slow movements she eased herself up off the couch, gently lowering Willow's head to rest on Xander's knee.

Stretching out the kinks in her back, Buffy looked across the fire at Tara. The girl was dozing off in the folding chair she sat in, chin drooping to her chest. She seemed nice enough, Buffy thought, maybe a little hard to understand with the nervous stutter, but definitely nice. She and Willow certainly seemed to hit it off; they talked excitedly about various medicinal stuffs until the endless days of walking and a fully belly dragged Willow into unconsciousness.

Walking to the crumbling edge of the floor, Buffy listened for anything suspicious. The night was as dark as she had ever seen it, thick layers of clouds blocking out the moon and stars. The compound was filled with the quiet sounds of sleep; the rasping of cloth against dusty concrete, the weak cry of mattress springs as someone rolled over, the low whimper of some poor person trapped in a nightmare. Underneath it all, though, were urgent whispers coming from above her. Lowered, angry voices.

Buffy crept silently up the improvised stairs, pausing in the shadows when she spotted Faith and Gunn standing by a trashcan fire. Gunn stood planted, arms crossed over his chest. Faith was pacing back and forth, clearly agitated.

"I understand your concerns, I really do, but I'm running out of ways to keep morale up," Gunn said quietly, "We need to make the move to take the Memorial. I realize it will be a tough run…"

"Tough run?" Faith hissed, "It's a fucking suicide mission, Gunn! You have, what, fifteen guys? Half of them are fresh off the caravan, all of them are malnourished and I'd bet my left tit that less than a quarter of them have ever even _held_ a gun! You're talking about taking a heavily fortified position in DC and then maintaining that defense against fucking super mutants." She made disgusted noise, turning sharply on her heel again.

"What do you suggest we do, Faith?" Gunn asked. "This place is as much an ideal as it is a building. I told them once we had the plans to restore the Lincoln Memorial, we would go and make it ours. We could support so many more people there; make it a real beacon of hope for escapees."

"That won't do a damn bit of good it you're all dead," Faith growled. The gnawing in Buffy's gut tightened. She had a real choice here, between what would help these real, tangible people and what she needed for herself. Faith had been good to her family, teaching them invaluable skills that had already saved their lives with the expectation of nothing in return. Gunn and the Temple had opened their doors without question, sharing their already meager food and shelter. She could tell from the way Faith had talked about this place, these people, that she must love them as fiercely as Buffy loved Willow and Xander. She knew that in mere moments Faith would volunteer without hesitation to clear the Memorial by herself, an idea that caused a strange, sharp tightening in Buffy's chest that she could not bring herself to analyze.

She latched on, instead, to the cold, crawling fear filling up her body. Deep down, she did not think they could not afford to slow their course towards Giles' last lead. It was frustrating enough that they had to detour to the trading town, to sacrifice almost another week to return to the city would put them solidly _weeks_ behind him. They had come through so much only to remain two steps behind him the whole way; if they slowed now, they might lose his trail forever.

Buffy swallowed hard before stepping out of the shadows, clear her throat to draw the pair's attention. Gunn looked over, quietly puzzled by her appearance. Faith was more vocal with her surprise.

"The hell, B! You scared the shit out of me." She walked over, placing her hand on Buffy shoulder, stooping down a little to look her in the eye. "You ok? Tara taking care of you and the guys?" Buffy smiled a little, knowing she had made the better choice.

"We're fine, Faith. Sounds like you guys could use some help, though."

* * *

"I don't like this, Buff," Xander said as he stalked around their corner of the compound, the early morning light casting deep shadows over his face. Willow did not voice her agreement, preoccupied with the rising nausea it was inducing. She watched Buffy unload her pack in quiet concentration, lining up the decrepit firearms they were planning to sell for scrap in Canterbury Commons. When the bag was empty she looked up at Xander and Willow, her face set in a carefully confident smile that did not reach her eyes.

"Don't worry, Xan-man. Faith and I can move really fast through the tunnels once we hit the city, so we'll only lose another couple days. Once we get these guys set up at the Memorial we'll have a safe place to crash when we're back in the area." Buffy stood and slipped on the empty pack, fastening the belt around her waist. "I think we're more worried about what might happen to you, Buffy," Willow started nervously, "I mean, what if you get hurt? You can't even watch me injecting you with a stimpack. And the tunnels are full of gross stuff, what if you get a cut? I don't even know where to look for antibiotics out here and you're just terrible at tying knots and your bandage will come off this first time you run into one of those big, ugly mutant guys and you'll get a staph infection and die and we'll never know and…"

"Whoa, Will, take a breath," Buffy placed a reassuring hand on Willow's shoulder. "Faith knows enough field medicine to keep us both in one piece 'til we get back. Plus, I really need you guys to stay here." Xander snorted incredulously, kicking a stray piece of rubble with more force than was strictly necessary. "Really," Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. "Most of the people here haven't been around guns before, and in less than a week they're going to be expected to run defense on an open building in the city. You two can teach them what they need to know, really save some lives."

Willow saw Xander deflate, scoffing weakly as he scraped his boot against the concrete floor. Self doubt started squirming underneath her skin; she had only been around guns, real guns, since they left the Vault. How could she teach someone what do when she just barely understood herself? She looked down at her feet, even when she could feel Buffy's eyes on her. "Willow," Buffy entreated, "You can do this. You _need_ to do this. The best way we can pay these guys back for looking out for us is by looking out for them." Willow swallowed hard, nodding.

"Alright then, fearless leader," Xander sighed, sitting down heavily on the couch and looking back and forth between the girls. "Let's go over the plan one more time."

* * *

"Good afternoon and welcome to Willow and Xander's School of Improvisational Comedy and Siege Warfare! I'm your host, Willow Rosenberg…wait, that's not right," Xander grinned bashfully as a titter spread through the crowd. He looked out over the gathered people as Willow continued their introductory speech, feeling apprehension rise at the sight of so many scared faces and loose-fitting clothes. These people had already lived a harder life than he could even bear to imagine, he really wondered if they would be able to withstand the mental fatigue of constant violence. Even he felt as though he may buckle under it after every fight, and he considered himself a fairly hardy young man.

Snapping back to the present as Willow finished the speech, he plastered on and enthusiastic smile and helped move half of the people into a firing line along the open wall of the building that faced the road. He moved along the line, making slight adjustments in each person's posture, showing them how to angle their bodies to absorb the most impact. Willow came down the opposite way, handing out their barely functional spare pistols. Time to make magic, Xander thought to himself.

Hopping up onto a relatively flat concrete boulder, he declared, "Alright, guys and dolls. Today we'll be working with pistols, as you can see. These particular pistols are very near the end of their lives, and, frankly, we have no more bullets, so you will be firing blank cartridges. Today is more about getting you used to the feel of the gun than working on aiming at a target, so pick any little thing you like out there to shoot at." He looked down the line, one last check of overall form, before making eye contact with Willow at the other end of the line. She nodded slightly.

"Ready." Backs straightened and shoulders squared, a taught wave rolling down the line. "Aim," Xander held his breath. "Fire!" Willow called out, the command quickly drowned out by the staggered cracks of lighting powder. He saw something happen in that moment that the boom rolled out over the Wasteland. The fear in the peoples' eyes changed into awe as they stared at the weapons in their hands. As they fixed their bodies for the next shot, they stood taller, somehow prouder, Xander thought. He felt his own pride rising as the shots came faster and closer together.

* * *

As they trudged out of the dilapidated metro station, Buffy ran a hand over her hair with a soft sound of disgust. It was matted down with sewer goo and drying gore. Faith laughed at her, pointing up at the bandana she had tied over her own hair. "Toldya you shoulda worn a hat," she chortled as Buffy smacked her in the shoulder. "And _I_ told _you_ that I am not a hat person. Maybe if you had managed to be a little less…splatter-y, this wouldn't be a problem!" Faith continued to laugh even as she reached into one of her outer pockets and offered Buffy a relatively grime-free cloth. Buffy tried her best to return the gesture with a sardonic smile, but the expression emerged much more genuine than was originally intended. She looked away quickly as she toweled off her hair.

They had left the Temple of the Union less three days ago, making blinding time through the train tunnels that ran under the city. There had only been a handful of hostiles on the trip, three short, violent encounters that had concluded in a matter of moments. Buffy had not needed anything more than her knife to bring down the attacking animals. Faith had even shown her a few new moves that were surprisingly effective, if messy. It had been invigorating to fight next to someone unafraid of the fight, to feel the energy pouring of her as she moved effortlessly within the deadly flow it. Even in this moment of calm and lucidity the darkness burned under her skin, greedy for more.

They saw the Lincoln Memorial as they rounded the corner of a crumbling office building. It was in much worse shape than Buffy had imagined it, with its missing columns and gaping holes in the marble walls. More immediately concerning, however, were the piled sandbags and low walls made of melted tires and barbed wire. Battlements made by men, not mutants. She felt Faith tense beside her, and unholstered the handgun at her hip.

A man was lounging on a folding chair behind one of the barriers, smoking a cigarette. He leered at them as they walked up the makeshift path to the monument, flicking the butt off to the side and spat before addressing them. "Well aren't you some hot little soldier girls. What can old Silas do for you today, aside from the obvious?" he grabbed himself, thrusting lewdly. Buffy felt the darkness ascend, the killer's instinct start to sing in her blood. She put on her sweetest, most innocent smile.

"Well, you see, we have some friends who would really like to live in this wonderful building you have here. This place means a lot to them, you understand; Lincoln is pretty much their hero for what he did during the Civil War." The man frowned, visibly grasping at the meaning of her words. "Well they can't live here," he said dumbly, "This is where we process slaves to head out to Paradise Falls. I think I need to go get Leroy…" he trailed off as Faith leveled her shotgun at him.

"We don't need Leroy," Buffy smiled, sashaying towards the man as she flicked the safety off her gun. "You seem man enough to handle the fact that I'm going to be taking over this building now. I wouldn't even mind if you left right now, which I'm pretty sure you'd be doing post haste if you realized who I was." She bit her bottom lip, narrowing her eyes at him, "Come to think of it, how do you _not_ know who I am? It's the hair, isn't it? Andrew always goes on and on about my hair, like there's nothing else memorable about me. Not that it's not gonna be a bitch to clean out after this, granted."

Faith barked with laughter, pumping her shotgun as the man tensed. He stood up clumsily, knocking the chair over with a clatter as he started edging away. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about or what you're trying to do. Leroy!" he bellowed. The men sleeping hidden in the building to began to stir. Faith moved next to Buffy, keeping her gun trained on him the whole time. "Really, man? She's all over the radio."

His eyes widened in understanding as Buffy stepped lightly in front of him, holding the pistol even with his forehead. A feral grin spread slowly across her face as her vision tunneled around the target. "That's right, baby," she purred as she pulled the trigger.

"I'm the Slayer."

* * *

Willow fell back onto the mattress with an irritated groan, grinding the heels of her hands into her eyes. "I just wish they hurry up and get back already. I am _so_ not good at waiting." She opened her eyes, looking over at Tara through the pressure spots. "It's making my stomach all acid-y." Tara smiled sadly back at her from the chair on the opposite wall of the small bedroom.

"I know how you feel. I get antsy whenever Faith is out of contact," she said softly and clearly. Tara's stutter shown signs of fading over the last few days, as she grew comfortable around them, Willow realized happily. The pleasant warmth the idea generated was quickly overtaken by another wave of anxiety. She sighed, shifting slightly to stare up at the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the plaster with her eyes.

"Have you known Faith for a long time?" Willow wondered aloud. "I suppose I sort of know her now, but other than that I haven't really known anyone but Buffy and Xander for more than like five minutes. Except for you, of course," she grinned. As stressful as the last few days had been, she had really enjoyed getting to know Tara. It was so nice to have someone to talk about medicine with; Buffy and Xander were never really interested in it past its immediate effect of preserving their lives. Tara knew all sorts of things Willow had never found in the medical journals she collected, and the forgotten delight of learning was a constant companion in their lengthy discussions.

"Four or five years," Tara replied, eyes clouding over with memories. "I met Faith right when I g-got to the Capital Wasteland." Willow looked up suddenly, "Wait, what do you mean 'got to the wasteland'? You weren't born here? Where are you from? I thought you had a different accent than everyone else here but I figured I was just imagining it because no one else mentioned it and I haven't really met that many people outside yet so I didn't have much to compare it to. But that's so cool, that you're from somewhere else, I mean, and you should really stop me when I do that," she finished sheepishly.

Tara smiled fondly over at her, shifting again in her chair. "But it's so much fun to let you go. It's like a verbal adventure," she teased lightly. Willow felt a blush spreading across her face, but found she couldn't keep from smiling back. She sat up on the mattress, scooting over until she could lean back against the wall and patting the new space beside her. Tara stood from the chair, edging hesitantly towards the mattress until Willow grabbed her hand and tugged her down. She didn't understand why Tara's smile had faded into a look of guilt and shame.

"W-Willow, I really need to t-tell you something first," she started, shakier than she had been in days. Willow felt another rush of anxiety; she wrapped her hand more securely around Tara's and squeezed, watching the girl intently. Tara stared at the opposite wall, frowning slightly as she gathered her thoughts. "I d-don't really know wh-where to start," she sighed. "You've r-read a lot, I know, b-but it doesn't seem like they t-talked about this much b-before the w-war." Understanding flashed through Willow as Tara trailed off. "Is this about you preferring to be with other girls?" Willow asked gently, tensing a little as Tara looked over at her sharply, eyes wide and frightened. "Faith mentioned it while we were walking here."

"Sh-She did?" Frustration filled her gaze. "That woman has the subtlety angry mole rat," she muttered under her breath before looking up regretfully at Willow. "I w-wanted to be up front with you, b-b-but I didn't know explain the whole th-thing to someone from a v-vault. The last thing I w-want to do is m-make you uncomfortable a-around me." Willow smiled brightly, "You worry too much, Tara. I'll admit I hadn't heard of anything like it before, but it doesn't bother me at all. It's not like just because you like girls you want to be with every single one on the planet." She laughed a little. "Especially me."

Willow tugged again on Tara's hand, pulling her further on to the mattress until they were both sitting side by side, backs against the wall. "Now," Willow declared, "Story time. The Adventures of Tara and Faith, Volume One." She smiled at the relief coloring Tara's face, but squeaked with surprise when the door to the room burst open.

"Will, Tara," Xander panted, eyes bouncing around the room until he found them. "They did it; Faith just made radio contact. They're both ok and the building is clear and they're leaving first thing in the morning!" Excitement exploded outwards from Willow's chest, crackling across her skin as she jumped up and leapt into Xander's arms. Buffy was alive and the people here would have a stable place to live and grow their community. Xander chattered excitedly that he had to go and tell Gunn the good news before sweeping out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

Willow looked back down at Tara, who seemed to have melted against the wall with relief. She grinned wildly before diving forward and tackling Tara with exuberant laughter, compelled to share the overwhelming relief that was pounding in her veins.

* * *

Xander sat with his legs dangling off the lip of the top floor, watching the bustle of people below him as he picked at a bowl of noodles that tasted vaguely of rehydrated cardboard. On the ground floor Gunn was organizing the bulk of the Temple's inhabitants, supervising the loading of pack animals with sacks of food and ammunition while demonstrating how to break down and reassemble an assault rifle. He spied Buffy and Willow in a corner on the second floor, Buffy wincing dramatically as Willow reapplied antiseptic to a wound on her arm.

He heard footsteps scrape behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Faith. She smirked at him, sporting a bandage wrapped around her head at a rakish angle. Pausing to edge a few bits of rubble off with the toe of her boot, she plopped down beside him with a sigh. "It's good to see them hustling like this," she looked out over the Wasteland. "They've just been stuck in this dump for so long, too few and too green to do anything about it. You and Red did these guys a real solid, teaching 'em how to handle themselves."

He shrugged, even as pride blossomed in his chest. "It was the least we could do. You taught us a bunch of stuff we needed to know, so why not share the wealth back?" Faith looked over at Xander with a genuine smile, probably the first he had ever seen from her. "I knew you guys were good people after you saved my crew. Nice of you to prove me right." Her gaze wandered back down the building, coming to rest on Buffy and Willow.

"I have a proposal I want to run by you," Faith said slowly. Xander perked up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and sitting up straighter, trying to look as attentive and masculine as he could manage. Faith snorted at the display, "You wish, dude," and clapped him on the back just hard enough to make it sting. She sighed again, staring at Buffy with a look he couldn't place. "I think you guys should take Tara with you."

Xander looked over at Faith curiously, eager for an explanation. "I could give you a bunch of reasons," she started, "Red could use some backup with the long guns, it's never a bad idea to have an extra person who knows their way around a med kit, one more in the rotation will let you have shorter watches at night," she looked over at Xander with a serious expression, "But I'll be honest with you, I want someone I trust help you guys find what you're looking for, and there ain't no one I trust more than her. This world is big and mean, and less empty than you'd like to think it is. Tara's like you, one of the good ones, and I know she'll do her damndest to keep you guys alive."

"Why don't you come with us?" he asked, "I mean, you and Tara both. Think of how much sleep I could be getting then!" Faith barked with laughter. "I've got commitments in the city I can't afford to ditch, otherwise I would," she scratched at the bandage on her head. "So, what do you say? Do you think B will go for it?"

Xander glanced down at the second floor, watching as Tara walked over to where Willow was treating Buffy. She smiled at both of them, saying something to Willow and reaching over her shoulders to adjust Willow's hands as they bound Buffy's wound. The grimace plastered on Buffy's face faded, and she said something excitedly to the pair. Willow threw a brilliant smile over her shoulder at Tara, who grew red under the obvious praise.

"I think so, Faith," he said, seeing her shoulders slump with relief out of the corner of his eye. "I think it'll work."

* * *

Buffy shrugged, adjusting the spread of weight over her shoulders. She patted her hands down her sides, feeling for her knife, holster and canteen. Looking behind her, she saw Xander helping Tara fasten her pack on and Willow clicking the buckle of a canvass hat under her chin. Faith stood to her right, leaning casually against the crumbling wall. The Temple caravan would be ready to depart within the hour, Faith planning to escort them as far as the Memorial before returning to her Rangers, but Buffy was anxious to get on the road before midday.

"Let's roll, children," she declared, walking forward to unlock the gate. She waited patiently as everyone said goodbye to Faith; Tara received a long hug, Willow a hearty handshake and Xander a friendly punch on the shoulder. Buffy lingered by the fence as they each filed out; nodding encouragingly in the direction they needed to head. Faith approached her as soon as the others were out of ear shot.

"It's been fun, B," she grinned, but Buffy noticed something frantic and frightened in her eyes. When Xander relayed Faith's plan for Tara to join them Buffy had accepted it as a wise logistical choice, but staring up at Faith's fading smile, she began to wonder about the motivation. Faith had been hovering around Buffy for the last day, laughing too hard at her jokes, looking as though she was constantly on the edge of saying something. The same expression she had on now, awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Yeah," Buffy trailed off as she studied Faith intently. Faith frowned under the scrutiny, "What? Do I have something on my face?" Buffy shook her head, taking a step towards Faith. Something had been humming within her since the battle at the memorial, gnawing at her almost like hunger. She had ignored it, letting the drive to follow the lead on her father dominate her attention as soon as they had returned to the compound. Watching Faith's eyes dart around, looking anywhere but her, a wave of realization washed outward from her bones.

She had become accustomed to Faith's presence at her side during the fight, to the ebb and flow of their bodies together as they engaged the enemy. They were _lethal_ together, efficient and synchronized in a way she was never able to be with Willow or Xander. There was a fire in Faith's eyes that spoke to her through the darkness, singing the same song the rushed through her own blood. Faith alone could see into this newly awoken instinct and she seemed not only to grasp but to _enjoy_ the intimate thrill of bringing righteous death in an equal measure. The knowledge of this excited Buffy, grew the hum beneath her skin to an electric crackle.

"Look, kid," Faith said gruffly, staring hard at a crack in the floor, "You look me up after you find your pops, ok? I…I'll want to know you're in one piece. When she raised her eyes to meet Buffy's, they held a fragility that Buffy found she couldn't understand. Instinct rolled forward, slickened by new knowledge and unnamed desire, and before she could suppress the urge she grabbed the lapels of Faith's jacket and crushed their mouths together.

It wasn't that different than kissing a boy, Buffy thought as her lips moved against Faith's. It was really only the smell of her, some sharply familiar thing that defied description floating just under the gunpowder and sweat. That was until the following second, when Faith relaxed and kissed her back. An unspeakable softness drowned out every other sense, causing a new, nameless urge to yawn up her body, shaking at her legs as it rose. All higher thought ceased abruptly at the slide of Faith's tongue against her own.

Buffy wrenched away, skin throbbing painfully. For a single, breathless moment she stared at Faith, felt her body sway, saw her wide, dark eyes open before letting the fabric of Faith's coat slip out of her hands. "I'll see you, Faith," she breathed, turning sharply and walking quickly after the others. She was shocked by her actions, confused and excruciatingly aroused. The feelings jostled for her attention, fighting against her efforts to shove them down and hone in once again on the quest for her father.

She did not risk looking back. If Faith said goodbye, she did not hear it.


	8. The Superhuman Gambit

**Chapter 7: The Superhuman Gambit**

"So this is rain, huh?" Willow asked no one in particular as she attempted to squeeze some of the water from her hair. She had always anticipated rain as being more dramatic, like the Tempest, or that wild storm in the Swiss Family Robinson movie they played every other weekend in the Vault. This rain was positively humdrum in comparison; after a day of thick cloud-cover and a few hours of suffocating humidity, the sky had simply begun to drip. Every now and then it picked up into a respectable fall of rain, but for most of the day it had simply drizzled down onto the Wasteland, thickening the dust into a slurry of mud. When Xander's boot was sucked right off his foot as they walked, it became clear that to reach Canterbury Commons in one piece, they would need to take shelter until the ground dried out.

"Yep, more of a n-nuisance than anything out here," Tara replied, hanging up her dripping coat on an inner corner of the corrugated metal shelter they had stumbled upon. "I guess this is the first time you guys have ever seen it f-for real?"

"That'd be a yes," Buffy sighed as she finally freed her foot from her soaked boot. "I have to vote 'major disappointment' on this though; rain in the movies on lasts for a few seconds. And then everyone is dry again in a few more." She shrieked as Xander reentered the shelter and shook his head vigorously, covering everyone with a fresh coat of rainwater. He looked apologetic, but also pale with worry. "I'm really sorry guys but I think I saw something out there. Will, do you have the scope from that gun we found handy?"

Willow swallowed, apprehension rising up her throat as she dug through her backpack and withdrew the narrow scope. She popped off the protectors on either side and walked over to the furthest edge of the shelter where she could still remain relatively dry. She looked out over the horizon, spotting movement with her bare eyes before raising the scope to narrow in on it. There was indeed something out there, a small, round something with antennae jutting out behind it, floating towards them it as is glistened metallically in the rain. "It's a…robot?" she said disbelievingly.

A warm hand on her shoulder made her start and glance frantically behind her. "C-can I take a look?" Tara asked, gently pulling the scope from Willow's white-knuckled grip. Willow took a step back to give Tara some room as she looked down the scope at the approaching threat. Her tensed shoulders relaxed when she finally caught sight of it. "Oh, it's j-just an eyebot," she sighed, handing the scope back to Willow with a thankful smile. "They're pre-war robots that w-wander around playing an old radio loop at anything they can find." Willow felt relief flood down her arms and sat down against the back wall, letting her head fall back onto the rusting metal.

"Man, do I miss the days when we could sit down for a few minutes without worrying about being eaten by something every three seconds," Xander huffed as he sat down on the blessedly dry dirt floor of the enclosure. Willow couldn't help but agree; a mere month of living in the outside world had made their childhood in the Vault seem blissfully uncomplicated. She looked down at her hands, at the blisters and calluses, the cuts and the dirt. Thoughts of the life she could have had, the lives they all _should_ have had left a sour flash of bitterness prickling at her stomach.

Buffy's voice drew her back to the present. "Tara, do you know how much farther we have to go?" Tara nodded and replied, "It's about t-two more hours once the rain clears up. W-we'll need to wait for the ground to dry some, but that sh-shouldn't take long once we get some sun." Buffy nodded vaguely, satisfied enough with the answer to direct her attention to wringing the damp out of her socks. Willow pushed up a little straighter, wincing when a few strands of her hair snagged painfully on the rusted wall.

"I never thought I'd say this again, but when you take away the threat of imminent danger I'm _bored_," Xander sighed dramatically. "What are we supposed to do until it stops raining?" Willow tried to give him a look of disapproval for the five year-old sentiment, but truth be told she was also longing for a distraction. Now that the shock of the outside world had faded, she was not eager to sit alone with the resentment of her decisions. She looked over when Tara perked up suddenly, feeling for something in the outer pocket of her pants. When her hand emerged it was wrapped around a deck of roughly fashioned playing cards.

"D-do you guys want to learn how to play Caravan? One of the guys at the Temple said it's a g-game they play way out west," she smiled shyly. "It's p-pretty fun and not too hard to learn." Buffy and Xander seemed immediately thrilled by the suggestion, leaping to their feet with a chorus of animated questions. Willow grinned as she leaned back on her hands and pushed herself to her feet. Learning was her most beloved pastime, after all; and a new game would be an excellent distraction from herself. She sat down again in the small circle Tara had organized them into, delighting in the excited smile that had taken hold on the girl's face.

As she listened to Tara explain the rules of the game, Willow noted the sounds that accompanied the quiet whirring of the eyebot as it passed by the shelter. It was playing a song, some long-forgotten march full of perky patriotism. Tara's voice was much more pleasant to listen to, and as she focused her attention fully upon her as the robot floated past the shelter without pausing to inspect its inhabitants. It continued on into the rain, trilling out the last, victorious notes of the song before breaking into a hearty greeting.

"Well hello there, America! This is your President, Richard Wilkins the Third."

* * *

"The citizens of this town have nothing to fear; the Mechanist is here to protect them!" cried a man hidden by a suit of improvised metal armor as he pounded wildly on a control device. A handful of rusting, military-grade robots lurched into action, snaking across the town's main thoroughfare towards a gaggle of giant ants skittering around the other side of the street. A woman dressed in what Xander could only describe as a super villain outfit crafted from ant carcasses began laughing menacingly as the insects engaged the robots in battle. "Ha!" she snapped, "We'll see about that! Attack, my soldiers!"

The opposing fronts annihilated one another within minutes, their champions fleeing in opposite directions down the street, exchanging barbs until they disappeared from view. "Your reign of terror will soon come to an end!" yelled the Mechanist as he rounded a corner and vanished. "You fool! The world will belong to the AntAgonizer!" the villain bellowed back, hopping down into an open sewer grate. Silence settled over the street. Xander stared over at the destruction, at a rare and complete loss for words. He did find himself agreeing with the sentiment Buffy expressed moments later, though.

"What…what the hell just happened?"

When a muffled voice answered with another question, Xander whipped his assault rifle off his back on terrified instinct. Buffy, too, had unholstered the pistol at her hip, taking a step in front of the rest of the group towards the noise.

"Holy crap, are there people out there?" a balding man stepped hesitantly out of a decrepit building a little ways down the road. "Aw hell, I'm sorry folks. Hell of a way to welcome you to the city, huh?" The man slung the rifle he was holding over his shoulder and started towards them. Xander lowered his gun, but Buffy kept her's trained on the man even when he came to a stop a few feet in front of them.

"I'm Ernest Roe, the mayor of sorts around these parts. Welcome to Canterbury Commons. I don't mean you no harm, little lady; mind taking that cannon down so we can talk?" Buffy scowled at the diminutive title, but lowered her pistol before answering him. "We're looking to trade scrap metal for supplies," she hesitated slightly, her eyes taking on a confused, distant cast that Xander didn't understand, "A…friend said there'd be people here who might be interested." She shook her head as if to clear it before continuing in a more aggressive voice, "But before we do any of that, what the _fuck_ just happened here? Who were those people?"

Roe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "They're just some confused kids, think they're superheroes or something. They have a little dustup every couple days; never really damage anything but usually manage to scare off anyone coming into town. It's really starting to cut into business, I tell you what." He let out a forlorn sigh before continuing. "At least you folks are still here. Crazy Wolfgang down at the diner will take that scrap off your hands." Roe suddenly looked up sharply at them, narrowing in on each of the weapons strapped to the four of them. "I don't suppose you kids would be interested in earning a few more caps while you're here?"

Xander could guess what the man was about to ask of them, and found himself caught squarely between a sense of opportunity and another of impending doom. They were not really in a position to turn away more money; while they had mapped out a clear path across the Wasteland, the lack of a final heading would most likely lead to a certain amount of aimless searching for the fabled garage. Any opportunity to get extra supplies to cover that unknowable stretch of time would be a blessing, but the thought of dealing with two clearly deranged maniacs was causing him more than a little uneasiness.

"Let me guess," Willow sighed, "You'll help us out if we take care of your superhero problem." Roe nodded eagerly, "I can't even tell you how much you would be helping us. I'd give you two hundred caps to get rid of the two of 'em."

"Make it four," Buffy said in a tone that brooked no argument as she cocked back the slide on her handgun, "and tell us everything you know about them." Roe's eyes widened and his voice shook as he spoke. "P-please don't kill 'em if you don't have to, they're just kids. I was hoping you could just, y'know, convince 'em to stop causing a ruckus. Maybe they'd listen to someone their own age." Buffy looked at him impassively, waiting to the information she requested. Roe pointed down the street to an old building with a thin tendril of smoke curling up from a hole in its roof. "I've known them both since they were little, parents died on different trade caravans. Why don't you folks come with me to Joe's Diner and I'll tell ya the whole story over some dinner?"

"Fine," Buffy answered curtly, motioning the others to follow Roe down the road. "M-maybe you could g-g-give us the short version, f-first?" Tara asked hesitantly. Roe nodded to himself but didn't look back.

"Fair enough. The girl calls herself the AntAgonizer, wants to take over the world for the ants or some nonsense, her name is Anya Jenkins. The guy in the tin cans fancies himself some sort of town defender, but most of the time he just hides away and plays with his robots. He goes by the Mechanist, but his real name is Warren Mears."

* * *

Buffy hissed with pain as she eased the last shard of shrapnel out of the wound in her thigh. She dropped it on top of the small pile beside her leg as a thin, square paper package landed in her lap. "Rip that open and wipe down everywhere you're bleeding," Willow called out without looking away from the terminal she was typing at frantically across the entryway. "It's gonna sting like the dickens but it'll keep the wound from becoming infected. I just need a few more minutes with this," she swore lightly under her breath, "and I'll come bandage it up for you."

"Thanks, Will," Buffy ripped open the paper and pulled out a surprisingly cold cloth that felt like acid on her torn skin. "Son of a bitch!" she ground out, "Understatement, much?" Willow threw a deeply regretful glance over her shoulder and began a rambling apology that Buffy didn't hear most of through the agonizing burn. Fucking robots, she thought to herself as the blood continued to ooze into the widening stain on her near-shredded pants leg. They had only been in the Mechanist's lair for a handful of minutes before two sentry robots intercepted them, armed with, of all things, missile launchers. Buffy had been forced to provide distraction enough for Willow to slip behind the robots and disable them, a task that had resulted what she hoped was temporary hearing loss in one ear and a good deal of desk imbedded in her leg.

"Ahh! I'm in! Take that, bitch!" Willow cheered from the terminal, hitting a few more buttons before scurrying over to Buffy. She pulled her pack off her shoulders and expeditiously extracted a roll of gauze and a roll of surgical tape, apologizing quickly as she ripped Buffy's all but ruined pants a little wider so she could access the injury. The stinging returned, thankfully muted, as Willow wrapped the wound until Buffy could no longer see red staining the white cloth. She taped down the bandage and looked up at Buffy with dawning panic.

"Can you walk? I set off an EMP to detonate after three minutes and I'm pretty sure it won't hurt us at all but I'm not one hundred percent sure and we should probably get to some cover." Buffy nodded and used Willow's wrist to haul herself to her feet. "What? I know I heard you say 'detonate' and I gotta tell you, Wills; I'm pretty much over blow-y up-y things for today. Possibly forever." She grunted as Willow helped her down behind an intact, overturned desk.

"It's not a bomb, it's an electromagnetic pulse. Basically, it'll fry anything electronic going on in here. Which is why I need your PipBoy, like now." Buffy stared at Willow in confusion for a moment before she started pulling the computer off her wrist. Willow was working at squeezing her arm out of her own when Buffy freed herself, and the second Willow detached her computer she snatched Buffy's from her hand and made a run for the front door. She wrenched open the door and flung each of the PipBoys out into the ruined parking lot outside, pausing briefly to account for where they landed before turning back towards Buffy. The computer console began beeping ominously as she ran back towards the desk and as Willow slid back under their makeshift cover, Buffy felt a tide of unseen energy rush throughout the decrepit building.

A lifeless silence settled over them as the energy dissipated, broken only by the occasionally fizzle of a broken circuit. Buffy released the breath she was holding, relaxing against the desk and leaning into Willow's side. A new sound began to echo through the building; muffled, agonized sobbing. "Should we go deal with him?" Buffy turned her head to look at Willow, who, while breathless with relief, also looked immeasurably proud of herself. "Nah," she replied, standing up before helping Buffy gingerly to her feet. "Threat's neutralized, right? I'm guessing he'd rather talk to someone he knows later than the people who ruined his fun now." Buffy nodded, leaning heavily on Willow as they made their way out the front door and began the search for their computers.

"Do you think Xander and Tara are having this much trouble with bug girl?" she winced as she bent down to retrieve her PipBoy from a pile of rubble. "I'm sure they're fine," Willow replied confidently, sliding under Buffy's arm so she could support most of her weight. "Tara's a fantastic shot and Xander doesn't suck nearly as much as he used to with the assault rifle. Plus, if the giant ants have rocket launchers, we're all pretty much doomed, anyways." Buffy chuckled at the thought as they made their way back down the hill to the town. Behind her, she heard a faint voice echoing out of the foundry building, but she was too busy concentrating on the simple act of walking to pay heed to the words.

"You _bitch_!" it wailed, "You've killed everything I love! You'll pay for this. I swear to _god_, you'll pay."

* * *

The complex of tunnels where the AntAgonizer had made her lair was sweltering. The air of the poorly ventilated hideout was thick with moisture leftover from the rain, hot and sooty from a number of trashcan fires that Tara supposed were there to provide an evil ambiance. After the first wave of bugs was put down, she had tied up her hair and stripped down to her undershirt to keep from sweating to death before they reached the villain. She had caught Xander glancing over at her frequently with a look of puzzled attraction that she found startlingly non-threatening; even a little amusing, given he knew of her circumstances. He seemed like a sweet man, light-hearted and deeply protective of those he cared for. Even with the deep distrust instilled within her by the circumstances of her life, it was surprisingly easy to be alone with him.

"So, Tara," he whispered in an attempt to dispel the eerie, damp silence of the cave, "What is it exactly you like about girls?" Tara had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing aloud, any apprehension she was holding on to evaporating into the dark. "Probably the same things you like about them," she grinned over her shoulder at him. He smiled back at her, looking quite pleased with himself as they continued down the widening tunnel towards what she hoped would soon open into a main chamber. She was not disappointed.

"It would seem you've discovered the location of my lair, puny mortals," the AntAgonizer crowed from makeshift throne atop a cobbled together wooden platform as they rounded the corner. "I'm afraid I can't let you live to tell about it."

"Look, lady," Xander stepped in front of Tara as he flicked the safety off on his assault rifle, "We don't want any trouble. Ernest Roe sent us to stop you from messing up the town on a regular basis. So if you and your bugs could just mosey on out into the Wasteland to terrorize someone else, that'd be great." Tara could see the AntAgonizer prickle at Xander's speech, her mounting aggression clear even under the hideous ant mask. They needed to take another approach to prevent the encounter from becoming violent. Fast.

"Anya, please listen to us," she put a hand on Xander's forearm and gently forced him to lower his weapon. The AntAgonizer tensed, her body language screaming confusion at the sound of her own name. "That's your name, isn't? Anya Jenkins?" The AntAgonizer nodded jerkily, frozen to her throne. Tara continued towards her, slowly.

"It's really nice to meet you, Anya. My name is Tara, and this is Xander." Tara arrived at the top of the platform and knelt before the AntAgonizer. "Could I take your mask off? It's a little hard to understand you with it on." She reached up gently pulled the helmet from the girl's head, revealing a mass of thick, dirty hair and wide, tear-filled brown eyes. "There," Tara smiled, "That's much better."

"How do you know that name?" Anya breathed. "Ernest Roe told us," Tara answered honestly. "He said you've been all alone in here since your parents died. I can't imagine how hard it's been for you; I only know it took me a long time to feel, well…_human_ again after my mother died." Tears ran freely down Anya's face now, cutting through what must have been years of dirt and sweat. "I don't think I could ever remember how to be human," she whispered. "The ants are the only ones who cared about me. They didn't mean to take my parents, but the humans meant to leave me alone." Tara felt a sharp pang of sorrow in her chest.

"Come with us, Anya. Let us show you not all humans are bad. If I'm wrong, we'll help you come back home to the ants," she stood up and offered a hand to Anya. "I promise you." Anya stared at the hand for a heavy moment before grasping it and pulling herself to her feet. She gave Tara a watery smile and did not relinquish her hand for many minutes as they walked out of the tunnels. Xander let them pass before following after, his jaw slack with astonishment. "Tara, that was _amazing_," he said hoarsely. Tara felt her face reddening; she was unused to praise. "It was j-just talking," she said, growing even redder as her stutter returned.

"Sometimes you just n-need to find the r-right words."

* * *

Willow watched with horrified fascination as the freshly-showered, newly reformed AntAgonizer tore into a plateful of rehydrated mashed potatoes with a fervor she had commonly associated with starving animals. Now that she was dressed in a spare set of traveling clothes, it was clear that Anya was little more than skin and bones. The thought of what she must have eaten all those years underground was something Willow was not prepared to contemplate. The plate was clear in less than a minute, Anya pausing her feast briefly to scoop the last of the mush up with her fingers.

"You were right, Tara! This human food is very edible. Much more satisfying than the offerings of my soldiers," Anya beamed over at Tara before diving into a huge bowlful of thick, brown stew that had been placed in front of her by the awed owner of the run-down diner. Willow smiled apologetically at the man and slipped him another few caps before she looked over Anya's head to where Tara was sitting. She was picking at her own stew much more delicately, focusing her entire attention on Anya as she encouraged her to eat her fill.

It was awe inspiring, really, the way Tara had managed to break down the AntAgonizer until nothing was left but a lost, scared woman with nothing more than words. Willow had always considered herself especially good at problem solving but when Xander had relayed the story of what happened in the caves, she knew she would have gone with the faster, messier option without a second thought. To see the products of another line of reasoning, let alone watch them eat and breathe and continue on in life in the chair right next to her was humbling. She could feel her respect for Tara deepen even further, feel it grow into a low, quiet burn beneath her skin as she caught herself staring at the pale sweep of Tara's throat. Tara caught her, too; winking playfully as Willow flushed and looked away hastily.

"What?" Buffy said loudly on her other side, almost startling her off her barstool. "You have to speak up; Willow says Robo-boy blew out my eardrum." Roe grew flustered as everyone turned to look at the two of them. "I said," he whispered loudly, "Warren can help us out in town now that you set him straight, but I have no idea what to do with the girl. If you take her with you I'll give you another two hundred caps." He glanced furtively over at Anya, who had lost interest after Buffy's outburst and returned to her meal. "You don't even have to keep her with you; just get her out of my town before she gets any more bright bug ideas." Willow frowned at the idea. Anya might weird her out a little, but to even suggest abandoning someone so obviously unstable to the Wasteland alone was just cruel. And, frankly, what had gotten Roe in this situation to begin with.

"Don't be a jackass," Buffy said too loudly, attracting everyone's attention again. "She can come with us if she wants to, and the least you can do for her is some gear that fits, gracious."

"Gratis," Willow corrected reflexively, glaring at the fast-wilting Roe. He muttered something and nodded before stalking towards his outpost to retrieve the desired equipment. Anya looked over at them with bright, confused eyes. "Where are we going?" she asked at a volume that emulated Buffy's, causing Willow to wince. Tara shushed her gently while Xander stood up from the other end of the bar and stretched his back as he replied. "We're going west, looking for Buffy and Willow's dad. We're pretty sure of where he is, but it's gonna be a long trip. Are you sure you want to come with us?"

"Where else would I go?" Anya asked without a hint of sarcasm, as if she was truly at a loss for what to do with herself. Willow felt a hot flash of shame at her hope that Anya might stay in this town that couldn't care less about her. "And besides," she continued through a mouthful of food, "I was promised a display of the worth of humanity, and so far Tara is appears to be the only satisfactory member of your species. How will I pass judgment on the human race without an adequate sample size?" Willow sighed wearily and rested her forehead on the cool counter of the bar.

It was going to be a long month.

* * *

By the time night had fallen on Canterbury Commons, the plaintive sobbing that had floated down from the foundry on the hill above town had been swallowed up by the silent darkness. The building itself was black and lifeless, but on the periphery of the structure was positioned a lone, well-shielded security camera that blinked soundlessly, continuing to record the goings-on of the world for a man who would never again be able to view its footage. It held its vigil through that night and many after it, even as a sinister, metallic vehicle descended from the sky with a sinister roar.

It landed gracefully, its twin rotor blades slowing just enough to allow a trench-coated man to descend from the cargo hold. He adjusted the dark glasses covering his eyes before walking towards the building, pausing when the Mechanist tore out of the front doors to investigate the commotion. He was clutching his improvised helmet, his black hair spiked up with machine oil and clear evidence of weeping written on his face. "Who are you?" he asked in a voice rough with overuse. "What do you want from me?"

"It's not what I want, son. It's what _you_might want that I'm here to talk about," the man in the trench coat drawled, cautiously approaching the Mechanist. "Word on the street is that you're the man to see about robotics. Best in the Capital Wasteland, they say." The Mechanist scoffed, gritting his teeth against another wave of emotion. "Yeah, maybe I was yesterday, but I'm not any more. Uncle Roe sent some heinous _bitch_ up to take me out of business, and she destroyed everything in my workshop. It's…they're all dead." The other man frowned sympathetically.

"What a damn shame. Women don't do nothin' but fuck up the great works of men, do they, son? Damn, damn shame," he paused for a moment, as if contemplating something. "Well I know just what we can do. It would be an affront before the Lord to waste a talented young man like yourself out here in the godless wilderness. Why don't you come with me, come work for the good guys? You ever heard of the Enclave, son?" The Mechanist shook his head, taking a jerky step back into the foundry as the other man continued towards him.

"The Enclave is the true government of the good old USA. America endured the war, as America endures all trials and we have not only survived. We have _thrived_." The man radiated proud excitement as he continued, "We've been based in the west, consolidating our assets for the time we can once again reclaim this great land for the righteous, the _pure_. We don't just fiddle with pre-war relics like demon Brotherhood of Steel; we have new weapons, better tech than anyone else in this world. We could use someone like you, Warren. A strong, smart, righteous man who wants to see his great works spread across this blessed country unhampered the guile of women or the unholy disease of monsters."

The Mechanist looked at the man for a long moment, distrust and hope and furious pride warring in his features. "I don't even know who you are, buddy. How am I supposed to believe any of that?"

"How rude of me," the man in the trench coat admonished himself, removing his dark glasses to reveal hard, coal-black eyes. "I'm Colonel Autumn, but you, son," he placed a fatherly hand on the Mechanist's shoulder.

"You can call me Caleb."


	9. Tranquility Lane

**Chapter 8: Tranquility Lane**

The air was thick with the stench of blood and fear, pitch black save for the blinding flashes of gunfire. Each strobe of light illuminated the faces of the enemy, contorted with rage and agony as her knife shredded through their hides. Bullets sang by her ears, the sharp odor of burning sulfur clinging to hair and skin. The movement was a dance, a song, a pure expression of a language hewn from death itself. She did not slow until the last beast fell with a low scream and the room descended again into black silence. A hand closed over her shoulder. She knew what to do.

She grabbed the wrist, twisting under the arm and whipping the body into the wall behind her, hard. She pushed until the body was pinned to the wall with her own, hip to hip, and rocked forward into a kiss that would have bloodied most people. It did not go unreciprocated, and it took the last of will to remain tensed as strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her impossibly closer. The kiss broke with a choked moan.

"Down, girl," a voice purred in her ear, "We'll have plenty of time once we clear outta here." She responded with a growl, moving her hands to an unseen collar and rending it apart, lowering her mouth to the grit and salt and copper. "No," she snarled, desperate for something she could not yet name. "Now." The body came alive under her hands.

"Suit yourself," the voice seemed to grin as she was spun around until she connected with the wall. One hand tangled roughly in her hair, keeping her head off the stone. Another was pushing down over her stomach, slow and insistent. She felt the muscles of her abdomen shudder uncontrollably, a deep and primal heat beginning to coil just below them. She searched the darkness for eyes to meet. A break in the cloud cover rolled suddenly over them, the dim cut of light revealing Faith's glittering eyes and predatory smirk.

"It's a pity Red's about to wake you up, Princess. We coulda had a damn good time." She bit back a frustrated sob as the hands left her body and the whole scene dissipated as smoke before her eyes.

"Buffy," Willow said again as gentle, familiar hand moved against her cheek. Buffy opened her eyes, allowing the knowledge of consciousness to freeze over the last, lingering pulse of molten lust. "Are you ok? It sounded like you were having a nightmare." She saw the night sky clear above her, the dim wash of starlight competing with the orange glow of the dying campfire. Willow was kneeling beside her, sympathetic concern written across her face. The lie came easily.

"I'm fine. Just a dream; I can't even remember what happened now." She grasped Willow's offered hand and pulled herself to a sitting position on her bedroll. Willow made a sound of quiet understanding as she passed Buffy a bottle of water. "I still have them all the time, too. You'd think we'd have seen enough bad stuff by now that our brains wouldn't bother making it up while we're sleeping, but I guess it doesn't work that way," she sighed as Buffy down half the bottle before thinking to conserve some of the rest for the others.

She barely restrained the urge to spit out the remnants of the vile water after she swallowed. They started having to cut their supply of purified water with anything they could find out in the endless wastes about a week ago, and she had still not grown accustomed to the murky aftertaste. It would not be long before they reached the area where the garage had to be located, but the lack of precise knowledge was beginning to take a noticeable toll on their rations.

"What time is it?" she looked over to Willow as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "About quarter past three," Willow replied, glancing down at her PipBoy. "You can catch a little more sleep before it's your turn. I just didn't want to leave you stuck in a bad dream, y'know? I mean, at least it sounded really bad; you were moaning and shaking and…"

"Actually, why don't you knock off a little early," Buffy cut in abruptly. "I'm a little too shook up to sleep anyways." She smiled to ease Willow's obvious apprehension. "Really, Wills; I promise I'm ok. Stop worrying and grab some shut eye." Willow still looked uneasy, but accepted the assurance with a squeeze of Buffy's hand and started to walk over to her own bedroll. Buffy scrubbed her hands over her face, wincing when they came away damp with sweat. She pushed herself to her feet and began walking to the edge of camp.

Xander and Tara remained dead to the world as she passed them while Anya snored loudly on the other side of the fire. She paused by Willow, smiling sadly as she looked down on her, curled tightly into herself and already asleep. The last month hadn't been easy on any of them, but together they had found a rhythm to the long days and dangerous nights. Wake up at eight, break camp at nine, set camp at five, first watch at eight. The three-person watch cycle allowed two of them to sleep through the night, but Willow had staunchly refused to take a night off since she came up with the idea. She had thrown herself into the study of survival skills with the intense single-mindedness that she once dedicated to her schoolwork; to the point where Buffy was now beginning to worry she may be nearing the point of mental exhaustion.

Buffy stooped over, rubbing a hand over Willow's back before grabbing the hunting rifle from beside the girl's bedroll. She began drifting into thoughts of how she could ease Willow's self-imposed burden, relishing the chance to focus herself outwards and away from the dark confusion of her subconscious. After locating an outcropping on the hill above the camp that provided a wide view of the surrounding wilderness, Buffy sat down and tucked herself against the rock to begin her vigil. She traced her fingers absently over the rifle's stock, frowning slightly as her thoughts moved from Willow to the deepest connection they shared.

She thought of what she would say to her father when they found him.

* * *

Xander stared down the road in disbelief. "Well…that was way easier than I thought it would be," he murmured to himself as continued after the girls towards the run down building that lay at the bottom of the shallow valley before them. By following the patchy remnants the roads that crisscrossed the western Wasteland, they had located the building almost as soon as they entered the target area. It was a month to the day that they had left Canterbury Commons, and the exhaustion of constant travel was immediately forgotten as he caught sight of the sign looming over the squat structure.

"Smith Casey's Garage," he read excitedly. "This has to be it, right? I mean, I don't see another building for miles and this one even has 'garage' written on it!" He looked over to Buffy, who seemed to be caught squarely between satisfaction and apprehension. "Yeah, Xan, this must be it," she said, laying a slightly shaking hand on the handle of the front door. "There's no telling what we're gonna find in there, though, so I want everyone on their guard. Will, you and Tara stay out here and watch our flank. I'll take point and look for any sign of Dad, Xander and Anya, watch my back and shot anything that moves. That is _not_ me," Buffy clarified, glaring at Anya.

"Oh, will you get over it already! You're the one that startled me and didn't explain your instructions. It's really more your fault than it is mine," Anya huffed. "Ants are much less touchy than humans." Xander sighed wearily, glancing over at Willow as she bristled and opened her mouth to snap at Anya. She stopped abruptly when Tara rested a calming hand on her shoulder, flushing a little and frowning deeply. "Alright, gang, let's roll," he said with false cheer as he flicked the safety off on his gun. Buffy nodded and unholstered her own pistol as she eased open the door to the building.

The handful of vermin that were prowling the dank interior took mere seconds to dispatch. Xander felt especially vindicated as he trod over the corpse of a radroach with a wet crunch. The garage was sparsely finished and looked as though it had been picked over by many scavengers; the floor was bare and the interior walls were lined with shelves, littered with the odd rusted-closed toolbox or used up fission battery. The cannibalized frame of a pre-war motorcycle drew his attention as they entered the main work area. When he was sure the room was free of threats, he wandered over to the vehicle as Buffy scoured for signs of Giles. Anya paced aimlessly about, stopping suddenly when her boot made a hollow _clank_ on the ground.

"There is a hole beneath this piece of metal," she declared triumphantly, the almost hidden door creaking as she hopped up and down experimentally. Buffy crossed the room, quickly locating a switch behind one of the shelves near the door. "Don't make me repeat this, but good job, Anya," she said as the metal plates swung open, revealing a steep metal staircase leading down into the earth. She raised her voice to call the rest of the group into the building. "We found the entrance! Come in and barricade the door behind you; I don't want any surprises when we leave."

The stairway led down to a steel tunnel lit with harsh florescent lights. The sight at the end of the tunnel took Xander's breath away.

"Wow," Willow breathed as she came up behind him. "Serious déjà vu moment here." The passageway terminated at an enormous gear-shaped door, identical in every way to the one they had fled through months ago, save for the '112' etched in white at its center. They stood together in awestruck silence until Buffy inched forward to the entrance console. She drew in a sharp breath when she reached it.

"Guys, look," she motioned towards the console. Xander saw the reason for her excitement as he approached. There was a distinct handprint in the dust, as if the door had been opened in the recent past. "He's actually here," she said softly, panic and hope and anger warring in her distant eyes as she pulled the level to open the vault. After a few moments of muffled whirring, the door wrenched itself back with a hauntingly familiar metallic scream. Weapons drawn, they proceeded cautiously into the air lock. Xander did not expect the sight that greeted them in the main atrium.

"Is…is th-this what your vault l-looked like?" Tara asked warily as they stared into the cavernous room. A towering, multi-consoled computer loomed darkly in the center of the area, surrounded by twelve glowing, egg-shaped pods raised slightly off the ground. A handful of maintenance robots rolled serenely through the scene, uncaring of their intrusion. "Not even a little bit," Buffy replied, her eyes sharp for any sign of Giles. "Will, go take a look at that thing in the middle, maybe figure out what the hell is going on in here?" Willow nodded and slung her rifle over her shoulder as she entered the room.

Xander busied himself with prowling between the pods, trying to get a better look at the figures behind the frosted glass. They looked human, like they were sitting almost fully reclined while staring at a glowing screen at the foot of the pod. He pressed his face to the glass to see if her could discern faces, and barely restrained a frightened yelp when a metallic voice began speaking behind him.

"Welcome to Vault 112, sir. Our records indicate that you are 202.3 years behind schedule. Please put on your Vault Jumpsuit and proceed to your assigned Tranquility Lounger. If you have misplaced your Vault Jumpsuit, I am authorized to issue you a replacement," a robot intoned mechanically, a hatch in its chest sliding open to reveal three neatly folded jumpsuits. "Th-thanks?" he stuttered as he removed the clothing before the hatch snapped closed. The robot did not reply, rolling past him to investigate another pod. Xander leaned against the structure for a moment, willing his heart to slow before he approached the girls with his discovery.

"Xan, get over here!" Willow called for him. He rounded the corner of the pod to see all four girls huddled around one console. "What did you guys find, 'cause I was just accosted by a maintenance bot who wants me to get in one of these things."

"That may be just what we need to do," Willow said distractedly as she typed on the console. Buffy continued for her, "Most of these are full of residents, but there's one empty one, one broken one, and this one." She walked over to the pod and circled it. "This is Dad, it has to be."

"Well shouldn't we just open it up and check?" Anya asked, joining Buffy by the pod and searching for a release mechanism.

"Absolutely not, don't touch anything!" Willow said harshly as she looked up from the computer. "They're all in locked into a virtual reality program; it'll kill him if we open it without closing the program down." She pushed hand through her hair as she turned back to the monitor. "Only problem is their Overseer made the program so only he can close it down. From the inside. And I have no idea what sort of simulation he's running or how to shut it down." Xander felt cold dread begin to pool in his stomach. One of them would need to enter the program blind, with no way to know how to return to the living world. A bright flash of realization cut through the fear.

"Show me the broken pod," he said quickly, following Tara over to the structure. His confidence grew as he examined it. "I can fix this," he called out, cutting into Willow and Buffy's growing argument over who was better suited to enter the simulation. "The inside computer-y stuff is fine, it's just a mechanical failure on the outside that's keeping it from opening and locking." Willow and Buffy looked over at him in surprise. He gave them a cautious smile before turning to scour the room for tools.

"I think we're gonna need the Brains and the Brawn for this one."

* * *

"Seriously, black and white suburbia? Some groundbreaking alternate reality this is," Buffy scoffed as the world came into focus around them. Willow restrained the urge to point out the enormity of the fact that they were simply conscious and sentient inside a centuries-old computer program and did her best to take stock of the physical scenario. They had materialized on the sidewalk of what appeared to be a terminal road in a pre-war neighborhood; identical, two-story wood sided houses made a ring around a small, grassy hillock. A handful of people were milling happily about the circle, the air was crisp and clean and filled with the sounds of children at play.

"Ooh, cute dresses though." Willow glanced over at Buffy, who was craning her neck around to see the back of the outfit she was wearing. They were indeed fairly attractive; light, sleeveless numbers with knee-length skirts that billowed gently in the breeze. Extraordinary circumstances aside, it was surprisingly nice to feel so feminine after months of the drudgery of travel. She started to drift into her thoughts, an idle contemplation of how this dress would look on someone else that quickly began to grow into something far more involved, when Buffy drew her attention back to the present.

"Let's look for Dad, I guess. He's gotta be in here somewhere." Willow followed after Buffy as she proceeded quickly towards the center of the area. At the foot of the hill, Willow thought she heard a child singing. She saw the culprit as they crested the rise, a little girl cheerfully watering a patch of weeds growing around the metal leg of a small swing set. The girl looked up as they approached, an excited smile bursting across her face.

"New people to play with! What good luck I've had lately," she put down her watering can and skipped over to them. "Good thing, too; I was just starting to get bored. We are going to have _so_ much fun!"

"Hold on there, sister," Buffy interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest. "First things first, who are you and where are we?" The little girl looked up at Buffy with wide, watering eyes. "I'm Betty, and I live here on Tranquility Lane, just like you do. Do you want to play a game?"

"We don't live here, sweetheart," Willow said gently, dropping to a knee to be more on level with the child. "I bet we'd have time for a little game if you helped us out first, though. I'm Willow, and this is my sister, Buffy. We're looking for our dad; he's probably new here, too. Have you seen him?" When Betty raised her eyes slightly to look at her, Willow was thrown off guard by the sharp malice in the child's gaze. "Maybe I have, maybe I haven't," she glared as Willow pulled back in shock. "You'll never know unless you play a game with me. It's really easy and we'll have lots of fun. All you have to do is exactly what I say."

"I don't think you're understanding us here, little girl," Buffy took a threatening step forward. She faltered when Betty took her own step forward wearing a smile with more cruelty than any child could have ever possessed. "No, I don't think you're understanding me," she laced her small fingers behind her back and began circling them predatorily. "I'm in charge here. What I say goes, and I want to play a game. If you don't do exactly what I want, you'll regret it." Willow had little time to dwell on the building dread when Betty came around behind her and grabbed her hand with impossible strength. She could feel the bones grind up against each other, the weaker ones snapping audibly as the grip grew ever tighter. She screamed as the white-hot pain raced up her arm, her knees buckling from the sheer force of agony. Betty just smiled calmly as Buffy looked on in horror.

"Now go make Timmy Neusbaum cry or I'll kill this stupid bitch _and_ your daddy."

* * *

Tara knew she was pacing around like a caged animal but couldn't bring herself to stop and calm down. She glanced at the console displaying Willow's vital statistics for what must have been the third time in as many minutes, slightly mollified by the numbers' slow but steady descent back into the acceptable ranges. Something bad had happened in the program, but it seemed to have passed. Poor Xander had been so crazed with fear and self-hatred when the alarms went off that Tara had been forced to send him off into the depths of the vault to search for supplies before he panicked and tried to pull the girls out of the simulation. She glanced again at the monitor, fighting down the urge to kick the massive computer when she saw the numbers had not changed.

"Why are you so agitated?" Anya asked curiously from her perch on top of a nearby pod. "There's nothing we can do to hurry them up from out here and, even though they seem to harbor and incomprehensible dislike of me, Buffy and Willow seem like very capable women. Why spend the energy on worrying over what is out of your control?" Tara spun on her heel, barely restraining the initial urge to snap defensively at Anya. She saw the genuine confusion and growing worry in the girl's expression and silently rebuked herself.

"It's kind of hard to explain," she sighed, willing herself not to look at the screen again as she passed it. "I know that they can handle whatever is happening in there, but because I care about them it hurts to know that something bad is going on and I can't help. Does that make sense?" Anya nodded vigorously. "It does. And you care about Willow much more than you do about Buffy, which fully explains your agitation." Tara felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach.

"Wh-what makes you s-say that?" she stammered, feeling her shame color start to color her face and neck. Anya looked very concerned by her reaction. "What did I do wrong? You turned red all of a sudden. I only noticed that you seem to favor Willow to Buffy; you walk next to Willow more frequently, you touch her more and you laugh at her jokes even when they aren't very funny. Please don't be angry because of me." Tara walked over and laid a calming hand over Anya's dangling ankle, feeling the reassuring smile she tried to deliver fall short. She had been certain she was masking her attraction to Willow more effectively than that.

"That obvious, huh?" she muttered to herself before looking back up at Anya. "I'm not angry, Ahn, don't worry. It's just…w-well it's just that this is another hard to explain thing."

"No, I know this one," Anya started proudly. "You wish to have lesbian orgasms with Willow." Tara felt a physical shock at the straightforwardness of the statement.

"_What?_" she yelled, wincing when she felt Anya recoil under her hand. "No, no, no, Anya I'm sorry. You just surprised me, that's all, I promise. Why did you say that?" Anya seemed somewhat placated by the assurance and continued, "It seemed obvious to me that you are interested in Willow sexually, like the Lesbian Pirate Queen in issue 376 of Grognak the Barbarian was interested in the Princess, though you are a much better person than she was and I doubt you'll resort to kidnapping to get your way." Tara pressed her forehead against the metal of the pod and prayed for patience.

"We need to have a talk about the difference between attraction and sex, but yes, I am attracted to Willow. I'm afraid that it will compromise our friendship, though, so you can't talk to anyone but me about this, ok?"

"Ok," Anya replied cautiously, "but I really don't understand your reluctance. It's obvious Willow is interested in you as well and…" She was cut off a shrill sequence of beeps coming from the computer. Tara heard echoing footsteps hurrying towards them as she whipped around to check the monitor. Willow's numbers were continuing to decline, but Buffy's blood pressure was on the rise. "Damn it," she swore under her breath, hitting the computer as lightly as she could manage.

"I hate this. I really fucking hate this."

* * *

"_Fuck_," Buffy roared, impotent rage burning in her veins as she hurled an empty soda bottle as hard as she could manage at the opposite wall. It shattered into a thousand shards of glass before vanishing into the air, reappearing whole and untouched on the end table next to her in less than a second. Willow looked over at her from the couch, her hand clutched protectively to her chest. "Take a breath, Buff. Come sit down," she entreated. "The crazy old lady's fail-safe isn't going to be hidden in a soda bottle." Buffy stalked over to the couch and dropped next to Willow with a frustrated sigh.

"I know, Will. I'm just so _mad_; at the creepy little bitch for hurting you, at myself for making that kid cry for no good reason, at the old lady for being so damn cryptic. And if that stupid dog doesn't stop howling outside I'm gonna scream." She glared out the dirtied window at the frantic animal who was circling the house, baying hysterically every few minutes. "We could let him in," Willow started, but Buffy cut her off. "No way. It's probably working for the bitch; I saw it hanging around the park with her when we first got here. She's probably just trying to find us now that we found a place to hide."

The abandoned house pointed out to them by the neighborhood crazy was really a blessing, Buffy knew. It gave them a quiet, secluded place away from the seemingly all-seeing god child to collect their thoughts and form a new plan of attack. Right now, however, it was only allowing her enough time to fully contemplate her failures and stew on the ineffectiveness of her usual, violent solution to problems. She growled slightly when the dog started up again, pinching the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to stem the tide of the oncoming headache.

"Let's see if this hell hole has any radio. I need something to drown out the damn dog before I can think." She reached out without opening her eyes, slapping her hand down on the device sitting on the table next to the couch. The box did not show any signs of lighting up or switching on, but a curiously clear tone sounded from it at her touch. It hung in the air for a moment before fading into silence, leaving the girls alone in their confusion. Buffy tapped the radio again experimentally only to receive the same result. "That's so weird," Willow said, standing up to investigate the source of the sound. As she walked over to the other side of the couch her good hand brushed against a cinderblock hidden under a pile of trash on an opposing table, and another clear note rang out in the darkened living room.

Buffy stood as well, looking over the junk gathered around them for anything else that might make noise. After a few minutes of searching, the two of them found not only the radio and the cinderblock, but a pitcher, an empty bottle and a creepy garden gnome that each made different sounds. "What the hell is the matter with this place?" Buffy asked plaintively, dropping her head into her hands as she resumed her seat on the couch. "What are we supposed to do with singing garbage?" Willow continued to pace around the room as if she hadn't heard Buffy, tapping each of the object as she passed. The random sounds began to grate on Buffy's already fraying nerves. Before she could voice her irritation, Willow stopped suddenly and turned to face her.

"Do you remember the tune of what Betty was singing?" Buffy thought back for a minute, momentarily grateful for the excellent ear a childhood full of music had given her. She hummed out what she thought she remembered the tune to be, watching Willow expectantly. Willow walked around in a loose circle, tapping the radio, the pitcher and the gnome, circling back to touch the pitcher and cinder block, turning again to reach the gnome before stopping at the bottle. The final note was interrupted by a loud hiss of static from the far wall of the living room.

As if from nowhere, a wall-sized computer with a single monitor had fizzled into existence. Buffy gaped at it, turning to Willow. Willow's smile was sharp and smug, and her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

"Now _this_ I can work with."

* * *

Anya was lingering in a darkened corner of the atrium, wondering to herself if it would be an inappropriate time to indulge in some of the tasty pink candy lingering at the bottom of her backpack when the computer three of the pods whirred to life across the room. She craned her neck to catch sight of what was happening, noting the identical display of 'PROGRAM TERMINATED' across every monitor on the central computer. Xander and Tara took off running to two of the pods. As curious as she was, Anya decided it would be best to remain out from underfoot for the time being.

The pod nearest to her was Willow's, and Tara skidded to a halt before it just as the hatch unsealed itself. Anya watched as she threw all her strength into prizing the door fully open before leaping onto the narrow ledge running around the pod. Bracing one arm against the side, she leaned into the device and hauled a coughing, shuddering Willow to a sitting position. She leaned Willow into her shoulder and started making quiet, calming noises.

"My…my hand," Willow choked out, raising a shaking arm up out of the up. Tara leaned her weight back on her heels, bringing the arm not propping Willow up around to investigate the injury. "It's fine, sweetheart," she said quickly, not noticing the endearment that slipped out, much to Anya's delight. "It was just the program, just in your head, I promise. You're alright. I've got you and you're alright." Tara brought the offending hand up so Willow could see for herself before raising it slightly higher to brush her own lips against it. Willow relaxed against Tara, and they huddled together for a quiet moment that made Anya unexpectedly happy.

The silence was broken by a sharp intake of breath from Willow. "Oh my god, the dog! Giles! Tara, help me up!" By the time the two of them were safely back on the ground, Xander and Buffy had staggered around from the other side of the computer. Xander appeared to be supporting the majority of Buffy's weight, and she looked very pale. She embraced Willow when they drew close enough together, quickly pulling back and saying something too quiet for Anya to hear. The four of them stiffened with surprise when another voice gasped from the other side of the computer.

Anya looked over to see an older man stumbling towards them. He was slightly taller than Xander, slimmer, somehow more worn. His hair was a dull, fading brown, his face covered with iron-gray stubble. His eyes were full of tears. "God in heaven," he whispered hoarsely, stopping a few feet away from the group. "It…you…you're really here." Buffy responded first, her voice high and childlike.

"Daddy?"

The man suddenly lurched forward, wrapping Buffy in his arms and weeping openly. She hesitated before returning the embrace, beginning to shake as if she was crying herself. Anya heard the others crying as well, though she didn't understand why. The man looked up with a shaky smile. "Willow," he trailed off, bringing one of his arms around the girl's shoulders as she stepped towards him. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head before looking to the rest of them. "And Xander, too. There never was anything that could separate you three." Xander let out a wet laugh as Buffy pulled back from the man's embrace.

"Dad, why didn't you even tell us what you were planning to do? How could you just leave us in the Vault like that?" she asked, anger and confusion bleeding into her voice. The man's answer was full of sorrow and regret. "I wanted you to be safe, darling," he moved his hand so he could wipe the tears from her eyes. "I wanted to spare you the cruelty of this world. You were ready to be without me, and I owe it to your mother's memory to finish her work." He touched her cheek gently, reverently.

"This isn't what I wanted for you, but I am so happy to see you. All of you," he looked up warmly at Xander, frowning slightly when he saw Tara. "Although I don't believe we've met, dear." Tara looked startled and shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh, um, I'm T-t-tara Maclay, s-sir," she stuttered. Xander put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and continued, "We met her and Anya on the road." He paused and looked around wildly, "Crap! Where's Anya? Anya?"

"I'm over here," she replied, stepping out of the shadowed corner. She felt a warm, confusing happiness radiate out from her chest when the whole group looked relieved to see her as she joined them. The man gave Buffy and Willow a final squeeze before realizing them, stepping towards Anya and Tara as he extended his hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you both. My name is Rupert Giles." Anya was unfamiliar with the gesture, but did her best to mimic Tara's action and pumped the man's calloused hand up and down a few times when it was her turn. He seemed pleased enough with her response and quickly returned his attention to the others.

"I feel as though we all have a great deal to talk about," he began, "but you should know that I was unsuccessful in getting any information from Braun. After he tricked me into the simulation he refused to drop the persona of the little girl, as you two witnessed firsthand." Buffy looked vaguely nauseated and Willow flexed her hand as if to remind herself that it was still working. "I have no other option than returning to Rivet City and begging Jenny for her help one last time." He looked to Buffy and Willow, his reddened eyes shining with hope and pride. "I know you must have already begun to make lives for yourselves out here, but I would be truly honored if you would accompany me. So that we can finish this the way it was meant to be finished. As a family."

"The family's gotten bigger, G-man," Xander smiled over at Anya with a look that made her feel suddenly shy. Giles looked over all of them fondly. "I can certainly see that. And what lovely additions they are." Buffy sniffed and wiped at her eyes one last time before straightening her back and stepping to the center of the group. "That's that then. No sense sticking around this creepy place. We can get to Megaton in a few weeks and resupply before going on to Rivet City." She smiled cautiously at her father.

"Let's hit the road."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'd like to say a special thanks to everyone who's taken the time to follow, favorite and review the story so far. Your feedback means a lot to me, and it just makes my day to see those numbers go up. To answer Hercules8's question (sorry, I tried to answer in the comment itself, but my computer rebelled halfway through), I toyed with the idea of having vampires in the story, but I think I've ultimately decided to try my best to stick solely to elements from Fallout 3 rather than incorporate certain aspects of the BtVS-verse. I can guarantee you'll see some familiar faces among the monsters of the Wasteland, though! I love to get messages and comments, so if anyone has any other questions, feel free to ask.


	10. Intermission

**Chapter 9: Intermission**

"And here we are! Home sweet…rickety metal shack," Xander finished lamely as he pushed open the door to the shack. Willow rolled her eyes, flushing when Tara flashed her an amused smile as they filed in behind him. Buffy sighed as she unceremoniously shed her pack and flopped down on the couch while Anya and Giles entered. Willow found herself staring at Giles as he closed the door behind him, the almost forgotten anticipation of possible praise tingling in her chest as he looked around the sparsely furnished living room. She saw Buffy and Xander staring at him, too, with the same hopeful look in their eyes.

"I cannot believe you three managed to acquire a permanent home so quickly," he said with pride in his smile. "Well done." Willow could barely restrain herself from bouncing with joy, the fatigue of travel completely gone from her mind. She could see Xander puffing up with the praise, and Buffy's smile made the sun look dim in comparison. Giles walked over to sit next to her on the couch, touching Willow's shoulder lightly as he passed her. She sighed happily and shucked her own pack, delighting in the familiar warmth of parental affection.

Dropping down onto a step low on the staircase, Willow took a moment to watch the strange collection of people that had augmented her definition of family. Xander was stretching out his shoulders, answering the multitude of questions Anya was peppering him with whenever he could get a word in. Buffy was animating a story with hand gestures, making Giles laugh and look down at her like she was the only other person in the world. Tara hung back towards the door, watching the others with a wistfulness that made Willow ache. She coughed to draw Tara's attention, then scooted against the wall and patted the cleared space next to her. Tara's smile was radiant and her body was warm against Willow's side.

She sighed softly, acclimating once again to the way skin began to hum wherever it touched Tara. She had yet to decide if it was pleasant of not, but the feeling had grown steadily from the moment Tara had pulled her out of simulator in Vault 112. It was certainly preferable to the dull pain the throbbed through her fingers when she wasn't touching Tara. Combined with aggressive fluttering in her stomach and the invariable blush that bled across her face at the slightest sign of affection from the girl, Willow was could no longer deny what was happening to her. She could recall similar, if less intense, symptoms from her early teens.

When she had feelings for Xander, Willow could always manage to focus herself away from them when she needed to escape the constant stress of infatuation, but that was all but impossible with Tara. Her eyes were in every clear sky, her laugh in every moment of happiness. The way she moved, the way she smelled, even the imagined softness of her lips haunted Willow's dreams. To be near her was torturous, but to be apart was unbearable. The intensity of these feelings was constant, overwhelming and terrifying.

Tara nudged Willow's shoulder with her own, the electric contact jerking Willow from her thoughts. Tara gave her a concerned look, nodding her head over to the others in the living room who were themselves looking expectantly at Willow. Utterly confused, she squeaked, "I'm sorry, what?"

"You lost the 'not it' game Wills. You gotta go get us something to eat while we have a fight to the death over who gets to sleep in the beds," Buffy smirked, visibly pleased with her agile avoidance. Xander tried to flash Willow a guilty look, but it was somewhat diminished by the relief that flooded his face as he sat heavily on one of the relocated kitchen chairs. She sighed dramatically as she braced her arms against the stair behind her, hoping to guilt someone into coming with her. She swallowed hard when Tara's hand covered her own.

"Can I come with you? I've never seen Megaton before." The genuine excitement dancing in her eyes left Willow breathless. She nodded weakly and allowed herself to be lead out of the house, unable to hear the chorus of goodbyes over the blood pounding in her ears. Tara did not relinquish her hold on Willow's hand even as they descended the steep hill to the center of settlement.

"I suppose I can understand why they thought it would be a good idea to build a town here, but I don't know how comfortable I'd be living next to a bomb for so long," Tara mused as they walked. Willow answered her absentmindedly, the majority of her attention still being diverted to processing the sensation of long, warm fingers laced through her own. "It's not dangerous anymore; I deactivated it back in August." She flexed her hand experimentally, trying to acclimate herself to damp press of skin on skin that was somehow unlike any that had come before it. When Tara dropped her hand in startled surprise, she barely restrained a whimper.

"You _what_?" Tara yelped, staring at her with open mouthed shock. "I didn't know what else to do!" Willow protested. "It was right after we left the Vault and we didn't have any money so Xander had to drink the water by the bomb to get sick enough for Fred to study him. We were all just sitting around watching him get sicker and sicker and Buffy was still pretty mad about everything so I spent hours and hours looking at the bomb. Turns out the interface wasn't too different from the ones in the books at home that I wasn't supposed to read but read anyways, so when Gob told me I should try to turn it off I did and it worked! That's why the Sheriff gave us the house, actually, but I don't really think it was worth all that since I didn't do much at all…"

"Breathe, Will," Tara smiled at her almost proudly, running a hand up her arm. "I'm not mad or anything, I was just worried you might have hurt yourself. And I think that it was a pretty great thing to do." Willow flushed under the attention, protesting, "Nope, no hurting of anything. Well, my stomach felt pretty wacky for a while afterwards, but there was a lot of other stuff contributing to that." They slowed down as they approached the Golden Lantern, a few vaguely familiar patrons waving genially at them as they drew closer. Tara ran her hand lightly over Willow's back, saying, "Why don't you let me take care of the food, Miss Bomb Squad? After we take dinner up to everyone you can take me on the grand tour." She nodded faintly, hanging back slightly to watch Tara walk towards the ramshackle diner.

For the thousandth time since she acknowledged her attraction to Tara, Willow set her jaw firmly and prepared herself to confess the depth of her feelings. As Tara glanced back over her shoulder with a warmth in her eyes that felt as tangible as physical contact, Willow bit down on her tongue and rode out the wave of self-doubt that rippled beneath her skin. She was arrogant, her darker mind whispered, foolishly assured of herself to think just because an advance was possible, it would be accepted. Tara would soon come to know her as she truly was; see the timid, witless sidekick she knew herself to be, shying away from the agonizing spotlight that had swallowed her sister whole. A shadow person. A supporting character. Unworthy and unwilling to hope for anything else.

"Are you alright, sweetie? You look angry," a soft hand wrapped around her own and the world contracted to eyes deep with the color of life. The knitting of her brow, the concern bleeding into her voice, it struck Willow as sunlight on frost. Each lingering moment in the warmth inched back the ice, leaving her hope fragile and damp and unquestionably _alive_. She gripped Tara's hand tightly and pulled her back up the hill, ignoring all protest until they had reached the landing outside the house. Steeling her resolve with renewed strength, she pulled the cloth sack from Tara's other hand and dropped it on a rusting patio table before pushing Tara gently to sit in the lawn chair beside it. The sight of her framed in the yellow light of the waning afternoon was enough to make Willow's bones ache with longing.

"Willow, what's going on? You're starting to scare me." The urge to touch rolled down her arm, throbbing in her fingertips. For the first time in a life full of hesitancy, of waiting to be lead, of pulling back from the ledge looming over what she desired for herself, Willow gave in. She reached out her hand and threaded her shaking fingers through Tara's dusty brown hair and she began to speak.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm not mad but there's something I need to say." She swallowed hard and let her hand slip down to Tara's shoulder. "I've wanted to say something for a long time now, but I always manage to talk myself out it. Convince myself that I only want this because I know things I didn't used to know; about you, about the world, about everything, really. That if I met you not knowing those things, I wouldn't look at you any differently that I do at Anya or even Buffy. So I never say anything and hope it'll go away but it's not. I always do that, y'know? I wait and I wait and I wait for something to happen, for someone else to do something so I can follow suit and know what to do, but then it's never what I wanted it to be. I think I'm finally tired of watching things happen around me, of being scared of what I want. And damn it, I want to say this."

She started pacing across the metal platform, unable to look at Tara as the terrifying truth burst forth. "I like you. I _really_ like you. I like you in a way I didn't even know I could like people. You're smart and you're kind and you're so unbelievably beautiful that sometimes I don't whether it hurts more to watch you or to look away."

"Will," Tara interrupted softly, pushing the chair back from the table as she stood. Willow knew there was no stopping now. "No, please Tara, you have to let me finish. I know how stupidly arrogant I must sound, telling you this and expecting some kind of response, but it's has just been eating me up inside. It felt like I was lying by not telling you, but now that I've said it I'm terrified that I've freaked you out and you're not going to want to travel with us anymore. And I'd totally understand if you didn't, I mean, who'd wanna slog across the Wasteland with some freak that's tripping all over themselves because they're way too interested in you."

When Tara gently said her name again, Willow couldn't bear to look. "But weird new feelings aside, you've become such a good friend over the last few months that I think it'd just kill me to see you walk away. I feel like you know me as well as Buffy or Xander, and they've known me my whole life. I've never been able to talk to someone like I can talk to you, about anything, everything. You even listen to me when I don't know how to stop talking and no one else…"

There was a flurry of motion, an arm that wrapped around her waist and drew her against the body she yearned to know as the lips she had dreamed of silenced her uncontainable thoughts. The kiss was so far above the expectations made from idle daydreams that it defied description. As it drew to a lengthy close, Willow opened her eyes to Tara's smile.

"Only you would use a thousand words when a handful would do," she murmured, leaning in for another long, slow kiss. "One of the many things that has me crazy about you."

"Well I like to be thorough," Willow panted as awareness of the world outside the two of them filtered back. "Wait, do you mean…?"

"I mean. Is…is that ok?"

"Damn straight, it's ok," Willow breathed as she tugged Tara down for more.

* * *

Buffy prowled through the empty living room, casting about in the pale morning light for something, anything to take her mind off the anxiety churning in her stomach. Without the distraction of ever-constant hunger that long months on the road had provided, it was hard to ignore the itch of inaction that had set in by their second day in Megaton. She knew in her head that the detour had been not only good for the group's morale, but also exceedingly profitable. Vault 112 had been virtually untouched, and the goods they had salvaged before their departure had sold well at Fred's shop. They would be well supplied for the journey to Rivet City, with enough money left over to refit most of their equipment. The knowledge did little to cool the heat crawling beneath her skin.

Again she cursed the rising light for pulling her from sleep before the others. A small house shared between six people left little time for self-contemplation, and she liked it that way. So many conflicting feelings were roiling about her mind that she hardly knew where to begin to understand them. The joy of her father's company was soured by lingering surges of distrust and betrayal, her happiness for Willow and Tara shadowed by confusion and shame that she had not seen her sister's struggle to come to terms with herself, all of it stewing in a deep rooted sense that any fragile goodness they came by would soon be ripped from them by the brutal world. Underneath everything the darkness prickled, calling out for something more than just blood. Her dreams grew darker nightly and often starred a certain mercenary in increasingly disturbing scenarios.

She shook her head violently in a vain effort to clear her thoughts, managing to cause more damage to the room than herself as she tripped over the mattress laid out on the living room floor. It had been fairly comfortable to sleep on but had now inflicted a frustratingly incongruous amount of pain to her bare foot. "Goddman son of a motherfucking _bitch_," she hissed as she hopped into the kitchen, dropping into a chair at the table with an aggravated sigh. The pain was positively trivial compared to the many injuries that had been inflicted on her of late, but it provided a welcome point of focus away from her troubled thoughts. At the quiet sound of bare feet on the metal floor she felt her muscles grow tense with deadly reflex.

"Are you quite alright, darling? That was some…colorful language," Giles yawned as he shuffled around the corner into the kitchen. For a perfect moment, all she felt was an all-encompassing wave of love and safety as she took in his familiar, tired smile and the graying stubble on his chin. In that moment it could have been a morning identical to any other in her life before, full of sleepy warmth and smell of coffee. Her leg pulsed with a sudden soreness, and the quiet happiness evaporated at the sight of angry scarring standing out starkly against the pale skin. Anger flared deep within her chest, acidic resentment creeping up the back of her throat. She managed to summon a thin smile before she met his eyes.

"I'm fine, Dad. Just falling victim to the vicious attack mattress." His smile faltered when he looked down at her, somehow seeing through the veneer of sarcastic normalcy that usually placated the others. She could not force herself to look away, silently challenging him to question her. Unreadable emotion flashed across his face before he turned away from her, walking to the counter and starting the process of preparing breakfast. "It's been a rather long time since we've had the chance to eat at a table together," he noted idly over the clatter of plates and cans. Buffy nodded wordlessly even though his back was turned.

"Even longer since you and I have had a moment to just ourselves," he sighed, clicking on the ancient gas range to heat up a pan. A heavy silence settled between them as he worked, frying slices of canned meat before sliding them on to pieces of stale, flat bread. Buffy lost track of time, sinking ever further into the thickening mire of emotions roiling in her mind until a plate was placed in front of her. Giles set a bottle of water next to the plate and sat down next to her. She almost flinched when he gently wrapped his hands around one of her own.

"Please talk to me, Buffy," he begged, his eyes glassed over with immeasurable sadness. "I cannot begin to understand the damage my actions have wrought, and I fear I never will unless you tell me about it. You're so different than the girl I left behind. You have her beauty, her wit, her charisma" he reached out a hand and lightly touched it to her cheek, "But you seem so _cold_. It's as though you've pulled away from Willow and Xander, that you hold Anya and Tara at arm's length. I can understand why you might find it hard to trust in me again, but I don't think I could ever forgive myself if I was responsible for the destruction of your trust in everything else. Is this the legacy I've left you?"

"You're not ready for the answer to that, Dad," she growled, jerking her hand away. She felt a sickening satisfaction at the hurt in his gaze. When he did not recoil from her a sinister panic began to raise the hair on her arms. "I might surprise you," he said quietly, never taking his eyes off of hers. The combined force of her rage and sorrow and fear surged forward, constricting her throat and filling her mouth with the taste of bile.

"You're not. I know you're not because if you were man enough to deal with the consequences of your actions you wouldn't have abandoned me in the first place!" Something in her fractured at the accusation and as she pushed away from the table and stood, the tempest in her mind at last revealed itself in words.

"You really have no idea what you've done to me, do you? The day you left the Overseer tried to kill us because he thought we knew. I had to step up and protect Willow and Xander because there was no one else who could. I killed a man because of you, Dad, and do you know what's worse? I. Fucking. Liked. It." She slammed her fist against the wall. "I shot him five fucking times and it felt _good_. I shot another man in the head and I felt more powerful, more _right_ than I had ever felt before in my life. Willow and Xander were terrified of me and it made me feel even better. For weeks the only time I could feel _anything_ was when I was killing something. If it hadn't been for…" she bit down hard on her tongue, unwilling to share her only terrifying hope in this moment of blinding rage.

"I pulled it together for them but it's still there, Dad. They're still afraid of it, of _me_, because they don't understand. How can I trust them, how can I trust anyone if they can't see that it's the only thing that kept us alive for so long? That's your fucking legacy, Dad. A monster walking around in your daughter's skin."

She could taste the truth of the words as they left her mouth, her deepest fear made manifest. The dingy kitchen was suddenly much too bright, the walls too suffocating, the air too thin. She turned to leave, the kitchen, the house, maybe even the town, but a hand closed around her wrist almost hard enough to make it hurt. With a sharp jerk she was pulled against her father's chest, where he held her tightly even as she struggled to overpower him.

"Let me go," she snarled, fighting in vain against a strength she had never known him to have. "Not until you listen to me," he said in a hard, rough voice she had never heard before. "I am going to tell you something now that I've not told anyone before, not even your mother." She hesitated, torn between blind rage and morbid curiosity as his arms tightened around her.

"When I was a young man, my father sold me to a mercenary company that operated out of an army base in the western Wastes. I fully expected to die the first time I was forced to fight one of the other boys, but by blind luck I happened to land a fatal blow within the first minute. The very _second_ I felt the knife pierce his skin I felt something wash over me. It was like a dark sense of power and righteousness, the base knowledge that I had killed to survive, that I had reached out and carved my life from death itself. It was…intoxicating. I stabbed that boy more times than anyone could count; so many that I shredded his arm from his torso. They called me Ripper after that."

"I clung to that power for years after that day, reveling in the blood and the death and the _fear_ my name inspired. Until one day, when my team was raiding a minor settlement we came across a man trying to sell us his son's life in exchange for his house. Memories of my life before that terrible moment in the ring came flooding back; my mother's smile, my sister's laugh, the simple knowledge that I was once whole and happy without the constant thrill of death. I killed that man and the remainder of the mercenaries, gave my weapons and money to the boy, and walked into the Wasteland ready to die for my crimes. It was again, blind luck, that lead me to cross the path of the caravan that your mother and her family were traveling with. She saved me, Buffy." His grip loosened as he began to weep, but Buffy could no longer bring herself to struggle against his embrace.

"She taught me how to read, how to be a man of peace and knowledge. The day we discovered she was pregnant with you was the happiest day of my life because I knew I could be for you everything that my father was not. I tried so hard to forget the horrors of my youth that I started to pretend they had never happened. To know that I've left you alone with this curse fills me with such shame that I…that I…" he choked out, losing his clarity to grief. The shock of the confession throbbed in Buffy's chest; strangely cool against the sickly heat of the darkness. For this first time since she came down from the high of Hanson's death, she felt her stomach begin to settle. She reached around her father's broad shoulders, holding him as he held her.

The implications of this new knowledge were beyond her comprehension. Her kind, gentle father had once been as she was now. He had broken free of it to become the man he wanted to be. He was _good_. Maybe she could be as well.

"How do you make it stop, Daddy?" she asked so quietly that she barely heard her own voice. He ran a hand up her back to stroke her hair, pulling back slightly so she could see his red-rimmed eyes. "I'm afraid it will never leave you, my darling girl," he whispered. "The only thing I know to do is to resist the pull of it. Look at the people whom you love, know that they depend on you and love you in return. Find your strength in them and _resist_." His smile was soft and sad. "You are my strength, love. You and our family."

The sounds of the house waking filtered down from the second level, sleepy greetings and the opening of doors. Xander's wry voice as the radio turned on, Willow's delighted laugh at the familiar song that filled the air. She relaxed against her father, laying her head on his shoulder and feeling the anger that had buoyed her through the worst of times bleed harmlessly into the ground.

"Maybe they can be mine, too," she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek as the others made their way towards the smell of breakfast.

* * *

Xander found that he could not keep the smugness out of his smile as they passed across the bridge to Rivet City with almost no resistance from the guard. Not that he wanted to, of course. The security jackasses had wasted hours of their time when they were here months ago, and it was no less than delightful to watch them glower impotently at them as they filed through the city's main entrance. He pulled his shoulders straight as he adjusted his pack, barely resisting the urge to stick out his tongue at them as the door closed behind him.

His smile faded as they continued down the claustrophobic passageways of the ship. A heavy tension began to thicken the stale smelling air, radiating down the line from Giles' position at its head. The finality of this appeal was not lost on Xander. If they could not secure the aid of Dr. Calendar and her team it would be unlikely that the six of them alone could both secure the Jefferson Memorial indefinitely _and_ resurrect Project Purity. Any progress they could hope for would be years away, if they even managed to survive the constant siege of super mutants.

Giles paused at the door to the laboratory, turning to look back at the rest of the group. He looked as though he was about to say something, squaring his shoulders and opening his mouth only to close it again. Instead he reached to touch Buffy's shoulder, then Willow's before he looked up at Xander with more pride than his own father had ever shown him. Giles then set his jaw, nodding firmly and turning to open the metal door beyond which lay their last great hope. Xander smiled to himself as he watched Tara's hand wrap supportively around Willow's as they walked into the lab.

He hung back when they reached the main floor, lingering outside the floodlights of the workspace as the rest of them continued towards a speechless Dr. Calendar. Buffy radiated a strength of presence that sent the other scientists cowering away from the brewing exchange, and Willow stood beside her with a confidence Xander had never seen in her before. They stood behind proudly behind their father as he engaged the scientist, confident in the knowledge that they belonged there. The faintest glimmer of envy flickered across his heart.

"Why are you standing back here when the rest of your family is over there?" Anya asked beside his ear, causing him to start with surprise. She rolled her eyes at his reaction but watched him expectantly nonetheless. He sighed as his heartbeat slowed to a normal speed and replied, "Because they're not really mine. Sure, Giles pretty much took me in when he saw that my dad was treating me like crap, but I've always been on the outside. I love those girls with all my heart, but they don't need me now that Giles is back."

"Did they need you before?" The question struck a sour note in Xander's chest. "No, I mean, yes, I mean…what's with all the questions, anyway?" Anya frowned, "I'm just trying to understand. Tara and I were added to this colony very recently, so I understand why we should remain here, but not why you should. Buffy is very strong and an adequate leader and Willow is very intelligent and a competent medic with Tara's assistance, so I don't understand why you think they needed you in the first place." The truth of the statement settled like a punch to his stomach.

"Firstly, ouch. Secondly, I know they didn't really _need_ me, per se, it's just…I had to protect them, y'know? They were gonna go storming out into the world after Giles with no one looking out for them, and I wasn't about to let that happen. I guess it made me feel closer to them, thinking that they needed me to watch their backs." Anya reacted only with contemplative silence. He was about to return his attention to the rising argument between Giles and Calendar when she again startled him with a reply.

"You don't see that you hold them together, do you?" She looked at him critically. "Between Buffy's self-righteous attitude and Willow's resentment and arrogance they would have lost patience with each other months ago if not for your humorous and admittedly charming interventions. You facilitated the additions to the colony, which we both know eventually resulted in Willow and Tara's newly realized lesbian affair and my own markedly improved integration into the human race. And now you have helped reunite them with the one person who brought you all together. They may not need you individually, but you are necessary to the continuation of the colony as a whole."

Confused pride pulsed warmly under Xander's skin at the observation. "I…has anyone ever noticed how weirdly perceptive you are?" he asked. "And don't let me forget that we've gotta find a better word for you than 'colony.' Wait…" He felt his eyes widen as he traced back over Anya's extensive speech. "You think I'm charming?"

"Guys," Buffy called out, motioning for them to join the exchange. Anya hurried ahead of him, but he could have sworn he saw her face flush red before they entered the circle of over-bright light. As he approached the group, Giles waved him forward and wrapped his arm around Xander's shoulders.

"You've met Xander, haven't you, Jenny?" he asked. Calendar scrutinized Xander, replying, "I'm sure I must have, though I must admit I was preoccupied with your daughter when they were last here."

"Xander studied to be a mechanic in the Vault and is exceptionally familiar with pre-war machinery as a result. Combined with the efforts of your team, I assure you we will have all the resources necessary to breathe life back into Project Purity." Calendar did not look convinced. "The boy is barely shaving. How can he be as familiar with the technology as you claim he is?" Xander was about to point out that he had been shaving for at least five years when Giles looked over at him with an expression of breathtaking faith and pride.

"Rest assured, Jenny. There is nothing my son can't fix."

Xander was struck speechless, almost too overwhelmed with emotion to hear Calendar beleaguered response. "Damn it, Rupert," she sighed. "Fine. You win. When this is all over, you owe me a very nice bottle of scotch. I'll assemble the team and we can head out in the morning." She stalked off towards her office, leaving the six of them alone on the lab work floor. The weight of expectation was ripped from them so suddenly that Xander felt lightheaded. They had won. Project Purity would live again.

Willow broke the solemn silence with an excited squeal, shortly before she clapped her hand over her own mouth with a mortified expression. Buffy almost doubled over with laughter, pulling the rest of them into the hysterical release of victory. By the time Giles pulled himself together enough to suggest they find the city's common house and retire for the evening, Xander felt tears streaming down his face. He glanced over at Anya, who looked puzzled by their reaction, but overall pleased with the situation. When she caught him staring, he looked quickly away.

He reached the stairs to the upper deck of the ship first, stepping aside with a gallant sweep of his arm to allow the girls to proceed. Giles chuckled as he passed him, and Xander relished in the heady lightness that filled his chest as he followed the upwards. For this first time since they had burst into the world outside, felt the firm warmth of confidence when he thought of tomorrow.

He could finally see a future for his family.


	11. The Waters of Life

**Chapter 10: The Waters of Life**

Buffy came around slowly, awareness brushing against the edges of her mind as she burrowed deeper under the still-musty blanket she had wrapped herself in. The room around her was cool and dark and a little damp smelling, the mattress beneath her was thin and worn, but clean. She yawned and stretched her back out against the bed, relishing the in warmth and safety clinging to her skin. In the two near-perfect weeks since they had taken up residence at the Jefferson Memorial she had fallen into the habit of taking a nap in the early afternoon, once the scientists were lost in the thick of the academic work and the site had been secured for the day. With Willow and her father occupied with the main project and Xander on call for any mechanical difficulties, it was delightfully easy for Buffy to slip away for a few hours of extra sleep.

She ran a hand through her hair as she sat up and looked around the empty room. Even though there was space enough for most of the people at the memorial to have private sleeping areas she had discovered that after months of unsafe conditions on the road, she could not sleep for more than a few hours without any easy visual of her companions. The others had expressed similar sentiments, and together they had hauled three sets of bunk beds up from the moldy basement level of the facility and set up the corner of a wide, empty anteroom as their own. She stood up and smiled to herself at the sight of Anya's nest of blankets, Xander's haphazardly made bed, Tara's neatly tucked in sheets and Willow's perfect hospital corners. Two wonderful weeks of calm and security and certainty with the promise of many more to come. It was almost enough to make her forget about the fear and doubt that ruled the previous months since they left the Vault.

Quiet hunger prickled in her stomach as she pulled on her boots, and after slipping on a clean shirt she began to make her way towards the kitchen area to raid the pantry for a snack. The lower corridors were empty as she walked through them, noting the marked decrease in the creepiness of the halls with the addition of lantern lighting along the ceiling. She paused outside a closed door near to the kitchen when she heard familiar, muffled voices on the other side.

"Will, c'mon," Tara laughed. "You know you need to get back to work and the Rangers are gonna to call any minute. I should really get to the radio…" The words trailed off into the soft, private sounds of intimacy. Willow's reply was almost too quiet to catch. "They can wait a few more minutes. This is the first time I've gotten you to myself all day," the muted thud of a body being pressed up against the door caused Buffy's face to flush red. "I'm seriously snuggle deprived over here."

"Well we wouldn't want that," Tara replied breathily as Buffy hurried off down the hall, an unwitting grin spread across her face. What excellent teasing material that little exchange would provide at dinner tonight, she thought as she rounded the corner. She decided to veer off her original course to check the station's CB radio for any sign of hailing, lest Tara miss her check in with the Rangers entirely. When she reached the room the radio was already dialed in to a specific frequency, and the tinny voice coming out of the speaker filled Buffy with a frightening wave of exhilaration and apprehension.

"_Break two-oh, this is Hardhat lookin' for Tarmac, come on back._" She sat down on the edge of the chair tucked under the desk, hesitating for a few seconds before depressing the button to return the hail. "Faith?" she asked tentatively.

"_No way. B, is that you?_" Faith asked back, excitement ringing in her voice. Buffy felt herself smiling as she replied, "Yeah, it's me. How, um, how are you?"

"_I'm alive and full and talkin' to you, so pretty damn good right now. How are you? Tare says you guys have been running around like crazy, settin' up shop._"

"It's been a little hectic, getting so many people here and keeping them safe while they do all the smarty-pants work. I end up using most of the day scaring the bad guys away, working out defensible positions around the building and stuff." The pride in Faith's voice deepened the blush creeping across her face.

"_That's my girl, thinkin' on your feet,_" she stopped abruptly, stammering, "_I mean, uh, where's Tara at? Shit, not that I don't wanna be talkin' to you or anything; I haven't gotten to since we were at the Temple and you…ah hell, I just can't win today._"

Buffy bit back a laugh at the awkward segue, smirking at the radio. "I think she's currently in the process of violating my sister. Or vice versa; it was hard to tell through the door and it didn't seem like an appropriate time to ask for clarification." Faith burst into surprised laughter on the other end.

"_No shit? Good for her, she's had the hots for Red since day one. Who knew Red had it in her, though._"

"I know. It was a bit of a surprise for the rest of us, too. They got real close on the trek out west and they seem really happy with each other, so I'm happy for 'em."

"_Good, good,_" Faith trailed off, the ambient static of the radio hissing softly from the speaker. Buffy knew it was her place to speak now but found herself stifled by an overwhelming sense of trepidation. She didn't know if she was more afraid of bringing up the way she had parted with Faith all those months ago, or of ignoring it entirely. She had thought of Faith often since her father's revelation in Megaton and found that, in the knowledge that there were others that lived with her darkness, she was no less drawn to her. With her fears of madness slowly fading, her dreams of Faith had become increasingly filled with a consuming air of lust. She had not yet brought herself to tell anyone about it, caught between a fear of exposing the depths of the dark instinct she had come to rely on in the outside world and a selfish desire to keep this new, exciting feeling for her own.

"Do…do you ever think about how we said goodbye?" she asked hesitantly. "_Not so much anymore_," Faith replied lightly, causing Buffy's chest to contract under the force of disappointment.

"_Only, like, once an hour or so._"

She inhaled sharply at the wry conclusion of the statement, terrified hope lancing through her veins. Faith sighed on the other end before continuing.

"_Hold that thought for a sec and let me get this out while I still have the balls to, ok? We've gotta talk; I know it, you know it, I wouldn't be surprised if most of the folks out in the Wastes know it by now. Thing is, I really want to be lookin' in those pretty eyes when we do, so I have a proposal for you. Let's meet up a week from today; I'll come up to the Memorial, I don't want you takin' on the tunnels by yourself. That'll give you some more time to get your people settled and me enough time to finish up this contract we're on. We can just, y'know, talk everything out and see what happens from there._"

"I think I can do that," Buffy said quietly into the microphone, unable to keep the shy smile off her face. There was a rush of breath from on the other end of the radio. "_Well damn, I didn't think it'd be that easy. It's a date, then._" A series of muffled noises cracked in the background as Faith was speaking. "_Listen, kid, I've gotta go deal with that contract I mentioned now. Can you tell Tara we're all five-by-five over here?_"

"Sure thing. Stay safe," she replied.

"_You too, B. I'll see you soon._"

The radio clicked into silence, and Buffy could not contain the joyful laugh that bubbled up out of her chest. She was embarrassingly pleased by the course of the conversation, feeling as though she could skip all the way to the kitchen. A wide grin was still plastered across her face when she ran into Tara in the hallway.

"Hi Buffy," she greeted, trying in vain to smooth down her obviously mussed hair. She gave Buffy a puzzled smile. "What's got you in such a good mood?" So overcome with good cheer was Buffy that she threw an arm around Tara's shoulders and placed a resounding kiss on her cheek. "Just enjoying things working out for once," she smiled as she made her way down the corridor, sticking her head back briefly after she rounded a corner.

"By the way, the Rangers are all fine. And you missed a button on your shirt," she winked, chuckling at the flaming blush that exploded across Tara's face before continuing on the kitchen.

* * *

"What's the thing where you keep fish? An Aquarian?" Buffy asked absentmindedly, reaching into the bag of potato crisps balanced between them on the railing where they were perched. Xander pondered the word, chewing thoughtfully before answering, "I think it's something like that. I do believe, however, that the better question is why are you thinking about fish?"

"I'm not really," she said through a mouthful of food, "Just watching everyone puttering around behind the glass up on the platform reminded me that one vid, you remember? The one they'd put on some days at school when we were especially rowdy?" A faint memory trickled to the front of his mind, a fixed camera staring into an unbelievably big tank of water where hundreds of different kinds of fish swam about to serene classical music. It was accompanied by an image of their childhood teacher wearing dark glasses and hiding his face in his arms as the children watched.

"Oh yeah, I remember now. Although I'm pretty sure now that it was more of a way for Mr. A to ride out his hangovers than it was to calm us down." Buffy laughed boisterously at the image, teetering precariously on the railing. "Oh god, I think you're right! He would always wear sunglasses on fish days." Her laughter was infectious. When they finally settled, they fell into a companionable silence as they watched the scientists work. A set of familiar footsteps came up the walkway behind them.

"Nice to see you two being so productive," Willow smirked sarcastically as she came around to face them, snatching a chip from Xander's hand. "You really wanna be talking there, Miss I've-Got-Three-Hickeys-That-Weren't-There-This-Mor ning?" Buffy retorted, deftly stealing the chip from Willow's hand before popping it in her own mouth. Willow blushed furiously, but her snappy comeback was preempted by the entrance of another figure from behind them.

"You're just jealous that she has a girlfriend to provide the aforementioned hickeys," Tara said archly, plucking the entire bag of chips off the railing before leading Willow away by the hand. "C'mon, sweetie. Dr. Calendar wants you to look at something." Buffy made an outraged little squawk at the theft of their snack, but Xander could see on her a grin that looked as wide as the one on his own face felt. Everything was so wonderfully _normal_ today.

Anya's voice rang out in the high rotunda as a harried-looking Giles descended the ramp from the project stage. "I'm not done going over the finances with you, Giles! I need at least another hour to explain to you the horrendous flaws in your previous system of bookkeeping!"

"I know, Anya, I'll be right back. I just need to ask Buffy something," Giles called over his shoulder, pinching the bridge of his nose as he approached them. "That girl has a remarkable for capacity for numbers, but I'm afraid I'm almost at wit's end with her…persistence." Xander nodded sagely, "That's a good word for it." Buffy hopped down off the railing before asking, "Whatchya need, Dad?"

"It seems as though there's some sort of blockage in one of the main intake pipes. We've tried to evaluate it from here, but it's impossible to tell what's happening down there with the current electrical system. Would you mind going down there and taking a look? It's most likely nothing more than refuse clogging up the sensor, but it could be a particularly determined mole rat."

"Sure thing," Buffy replied, drawing the handgun from the worn holster at her hip and popping out the magazine to verify the weapon was loaded. "Today's been quiet. I could use some action."

"Why don't I come with you? You know how much I enjoy finding ways to get out of real work." Xander hopped of the railing as well, ignoring the pointed roll of Giles' eyes. "Very well," he sighed, "just be careful, please." He leaned over and kissed Buffy on the forehead before turning back towards the platform and setting his shoulders. "Wish me luck," he muttered under his breath and he headed towards Anya, who had stuck her head out of the glass-enclosed stage as she brandished a clipboard menacingly. Xander chuckled all the way back to their bunk room, where he picked up his favorite assault rifle and a crowbar as Buffy strapped some light armor on over her clothes.

The entrance to the pipe was fairly easy to access and the descent to the problem area only mildly slimy. As they passed through a narrow grate, Xander immediately noticed the problem. "Someone just left the access switch in the 'off' position," he said confidently, throwing his weight against the rusted lever with little success. Buffy smirked at him and nudged him out of the way with her shoulder before hauling the switch back with a single jerk of her arms. The light above them flicked from red to green.

"Well that was easy enough," Xander began to say, but he was interrupted by a loud, mechanical roaring from above them. "What the…" Buffy trailed off, standing a little straighter to try and peer out of the grating above their heads. A huge machine fell from the sky before their eyes, landing gently on the wide, open area they had cleared behind the Memorial. They watched as twenty towering men in hulking black armor quickly filed out of the vehicle and mounted the ramp to the rotunda. Xander almost missed the metallic click that rang out behind them.

"Shit, they locked us in," he ran his hands over the bars, looking for the locking mechanism. He felt Buffy pull something heavy off his back before she came up beside him, the crowbar clutched tightly in her hands. When he looked down at her he saw her eyes set in horribly familiar steel. "We don't have time to keep it intact," she grunted as she jabbed the tool between the bars and wrenched it backwards.

"There's no way this is going to end well."

* * *

"No," Giles breathed as he watched a masked, armored soldier dismantle the perimeter camera. "No, no, no. Not yet. I just found them again." He whipped around, trying to ascertain where the children were. Anya was in front of him, looking rather affronted by his sudden lack of concentration on her budget lecture. Tara was visible just around the bend, stocking a med kit with anti-radiation drugs. Buffy and Xander would be safe in the pipe. Willow was nowhere to be found.

"Anya, dear, this is all terribly informative but I'm afraid I'm rather parched. Would you mind running down the pantry and grabbing us some water before we continue?" he asked calmly, walking her to the stage door with a firm hand on her lower back. She was saying something to him in protest, but he could hear nothing over the blood rushing in his ears and the single though throbbing through his mind. Get them out. Save them.

"Tara, where's Willow?" The question came out harshly; she looked up at him with wide, startled eyes. "I th-think she's, uh, b-by the m-main m-monitor, sir," she stammered. His heart hurt to bring the nervous speech impediment out in her, but he needed to move quickly. "Could you please meet me outside the platform? There's something I wish to show you both," he said over his shoulder, not looking back as he continued around the stage. He walked quickly around the bend, relieved to see a familiar flash of red leaning over the computer console. "Willow, please come with me. I need you to take a look at something."

She smiled up at him, "Sure thing, Giles. Just give me a minute to wrap up this line of code." Faint sounds of a struggle echoed around the rotunda. "It has to be now, sweetheart," he said urgently. She waved absentmindedly over her shoulder without looking up from the monitor. "Two more seconds, I promise." There was a muted slam against the door to the chamber. He reached down and wrapped his hand around the collar of Willow's shirt and jacket, hauling her to her feet with a surprised yelp. He dragged her towards the airlock.

There was no time left to be gentle.

* * *

Tara was pacing nervously across the entrance platform, still unnerved by Giles' brusqueness when the door to the rotunda was bashed in. Almost simultaneously, she heard Willow cry out in pain just out of her vision. She looked frantically between the two sounds, frozen in terror when a cohort of huge, black armored figures pushed into the room. When she looked back towards the project stage she saw Giles hauling Willow towards her by the collar of her shirt. At the exit to the platform, he pulled her sharply in front of him and grabbed her shoulders roughly.

"You must listen to me now, Willow. Stay back and let the men in armor come onto the project stage. Seal the airlock behind the last one, then lock the panel so it can only be opened from the inside. Do you understand me? Can you do that?" Willow's eyes were wide and scared, but she nodded. He drew her to him in an abrupt hug, kissing the top of her head. "I love you. Never forget that," he whispered hoarsely as the armored men began thundering up the walkway. He shoved Willow out of the doorway towards Tara, who caught her with one arm and braced the other against the railing behind them to keep her balance. The soldiers passed the two of them without a second thought, grabbing Giles by both arms and pulling him back onto the project stage.

"Take care of her," he mouthed before an armored fist crashed into his jaw and his face was spun from view. Tara clutched Willow to her body and nodded to no one as she closed the airlock behind the last soldier, a man in a tan trench coat.

* * *

Anya slid down the dirty wall, clutching at her stomach. After her head cracked against the concrete the world around her had taken on a very strange cast, as if everything were blurred around the edges. More soldiers marched quickly after the one who had punched her, their heavy metal footfalls dampened by the air that was suddenly too thick to breathe. Her lungs heaved uselessly in her chest as the emptied room began to grow dark. She thought she heard her name being called from far away as the world passed into complete blackness.

Air rushed back into her as she was hauled to her feet, colliding with a warm, muscular body that smelled like grime and fear and man. Xander's arm came around her waist as he leaned her back slightly, his brown eyes sharp and glassy with terror. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice muffled even though he was only inches from her face. She reached behind her head to feel the place where she first connected with the wall. Her hand came away wet and sticky.

"Is she ok?" another voice asked, familiar and feminine. Buffy came up behind Xander, her face set in a cold expression that Anya found very unnerving. "Do you know what's happening Anya?" Xander asked more gently, wincing when he caught sight of the blood painted on her fingertips. "I don't know," she replied, her own voice much too loud to her ears. "I was getting something to drink and these soldier people were in the lobby when I came back up. I asked what they were doing here and one of them struck me. I think they were headed towards the rotunda."

Buffy left without another word, running across the room with her knife clearly brandished. Xander said something to Anya too quietly for her to catch, but it sounded reassuring as he slung one of her arms over his shoulders and led them towards the newly ruined door.

* * *

Willow watched the exchange with growing horror, her mind making a deranged game of predicting the commanding officer's next move to keep her from slipping into blind terror. The control panel beeped obediently as her hands completed the isolation code sequence without a conscious thought. She took a step back and grasped Tara's hand like it was the only thing keeping her bound to the world.

The scientists still in the enclosed stage were on their knees, each one in front of an armored soldier. The man in the trench coat paced before the line, coming to a stop before Giles. "Am I to assume you are in charge of this project?" he asked in a lazy drawl. Giles spat out a bloody tooth on the floor before he answered, "Yes, I am."

"Then I will repeat myself, sir. You are to hand over all material relating to the purifier at once. Furthermore, you are to assist Enclave scientists in assuming control of the administration and operation of this facility at once."

"Colonel…Autumn, isn't it? I'm afraid you've been misinformed. This is a private project in no way under the jurisdiction of the United States government, and has never been operational." Autumn calmly dropped the butt of the cigarette he had been smoking and ground out the embers with his boot. "This is the last time I will repeat myself, sir. Stand down immediately and surrender control of this facility." A voice whispered in Willow's head, drawing her back into the game of it. Next comes the leverage.

"Colonel, I assure you that this facility will _not_ function. We have never been able to replicate test results on…" Giles was cut off by Autumn's loud sigh. "Very well," he nodded over to the soldiers, who leveled their futuristic looking rifles with the heads of half of the kneeling scientists. In a single flash of green light each of their heads vanished, their empty necks smoking as their bodies crumbled to the floor. Willow realized detachedly that the scream she heard must have been her own.

"I suggest you comply immediately in order to prevent any more incidents," Autumn said wearily, staring expectantly down at Giles. "Yes, sir," he replied through gritted teeth. "If you'll allow me to stand I will bring the system online for you. There's no need for anymore violence." Confusion set in as Willow watched the soldier wrench Giles to his feet and walk him over to the main control panel. The system was months away from even small-scale tests, there weren't even any protocols programmed in that Giles could run for show. Cold realization trickled down her arms as she saw his hand move towards the coolant intake display. "Oh my god," she whispered. She dropped Tara's hand and ran headlong into the impenetrable glass of the airlock, pounding on it with all her strength.

"No! Giles, you can't! Stop, _**stop**_!"

* * *

Xander shuffled through the splintered doorway to the rotunda as fast as he could manage while supporting most of Anya's weight. As they passed a frozen Dr. Calendar he heard a scream from the entrance platform. "Dr. C, watch Anya, ok? I'll be right back," he panted, lowering the still-dazed Anya to the floor by Calendar's feet before bolting up the ramp to the platform. Tara, too, seemed to be rooted to the ground in shock, clinging to the railing behind her back with white-knuckled hands. Buffy and Willow were throwing themselves against the glass of the stage airlock.

"What the hell are you…?" he trailed off as he came up behind them, his eyes glued to the three headless bodies strewn across the ground. A muffled ticking caught his ear as he tore his gaze away from the slaughter. He saw Giles working at something on the central control panel, a man in a trench coat looming over his shoulder, and a rising gage almost hidden from view by a large computer. The coolant for the main generator had been cut off and what little was left was evaporating fast. It would overheat in a matter of seconds, forcing a wave of uranium particles into the air filtration system as the engine ground itself into oblivion.

He reacted on instinct. Reaching forwards, he grabbed both girls by their belts and hauled them backwards. He cinched an arm around each waist and spun around, pushing them into Tara and the railing. He held his breath and prayed that his body would be enough to shield them from the blast. Behind him there was a muted _bang_, a flash of light and sickly heat that danced across his back. Then there was only the sound of death.

Buffy jerked away from him, muscling under his arm and running back to the airlock door. Xander loosened his hold on Willow and turned around slowly. Scientist and soldier alike were writhing on the floor of the project stage, clutching at their ruined eyes as the last of their lives trickled out of their mouths. The trench coated commander collapsed to his knees, drawing some sort of syringe from an inner pocket and stabbing it into his chest before falling to the ground. Only Giles remained standing, his shoulders heaving as he leaned heavily on the control panel. He turned around haltingly, staggering over to the airlock door. Blood oozed thickly from his nose and mouth.

"I'm so sorry, love," he wheezed, reaching out to Buffy through the glass. "I had to keep you safe. This was the right thing." A shudder ran up his legs as his knees gave way, leaving a lurid red stain as his slid down against the door. "There will…be more of them," he ground out, his eyes closing for the last time. "Run. Run!" There was nothing for Xander to do but watch as the man he loved more than his own father crumpled to the ground in a still heap. Buffy stared down at his body, her tear-stained face slipping into a blank absence of expression.

"Halt!" a metallic voice ordered from below them. An armored soldier stood at the base of the ramp, his strange rifle leveled at the four of them. "You are trespassing on the property of the United States Government. Submit to our authority or face immediate repercussions."

Buffy descended upon him before Xander could even open his mouth.

* * *

There was no Buffy. There was no Xander, no Tara, no Willow. No pain, no fear, no paralyzing grief. There was only death. Only darkness.

In three steps she reached her prey, swinging a closed fist towards a weak joist in the neck of the armor. An inhuman hand caught her attack, twisting upwards with until her hand almost flat against the top of her forearm. The action dropped her to her knees. She twisted herself further, wrenching her hand from its grasp as she swept her leg under its own. The knife appeared in her off hand as she leapt atop the fallen creature. With a sharp jab and twist, the blade pierced the thin armor of the neck, sliding wetly upwards through layers of muscle and brain matter. She rocked back onto her feet with ease.

A cursory examination saw her hand jutting awkwardly off her wrist, obviously broken in several places. The flicker of pain drew her dangerously close to the outside world. It needed to be dealt with. She looked down at the fallen creature, cocking her head to see the full array of bolts securing the gauntlet of its armor. With a few sharp twists of her knife disengaged its lock, and with a hiss of air it slid off the pale, dead arm. She felt the hydraulics tighten around her own arm as she donned the armor, stabilizing the shattered joint. When a voice sounded behind her she reacted on instinct.

The officer choked on his own warning as she grabbed his shoulder and brought her newly armored fist into his chest. She blood spatter across her face as she pushed through the fleshy resistance to the other side. The body slid off her arm with a wet sucking sound. The taste of copper was thick on her tongue.

Different voices echoed in the distance. Familiar voices. Not things that needed killing. A few words penetrated the itch of stillness. Tunnels. Brotherhood. Citadel. A person hovered at the edge of her vision. Slim, red hair, radiating fear. Buffy's sister. Her sister.

"Can you hear me, Buffy?" she asked slowly, her voice shaking as she inched forward. "Dr. Calendar knows a place we can go, people who can help us now. We can't afford to go get our things, so you have to help us stay safe until we get there. Can you do that?" Willow's hand found the side of Buffy's neck. It was soft and dry and terrifyingly real.

She shook Willow off with a growl, willing the ice of death to close back over her. The Calendar woman whimpered when she looked over to her. Buffy nodded towards the door, the hair on her arms rising as she descended into the tunnels after the group of people she could not bear to look at. What lay at the end of their journey was too distant, too horrible to comprehend. Here, she could understand what needed to be done.

Here, there were monsters that needed slaying.


End file.
